


The Brightest Light and The Darkest Places

by Cordelia69



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:02:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8469742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cordelia69/pseuds/Cordelia69
Summary: When Aramis finds himself in a compromising position, will he be able to come out unscathed or will he be changed forever?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Between the writing of “Brotherhood of Shadow” with [Skep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skep) and the various one-shots about season 3 of “The Musketeers", this idea popped into my mind. At first, the main character was Athos, but then the whole thing changed and Aramis came to mind. It's settled in present time so it's completely different from what I used to write in “The Musketeers” fandom. 
> 
> As some of you know, English is not my mother tongue so the amazing [Skep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skep) helped me to edit it, supporting and deal with me and my many mistakes. Thank you darlin'!
> 
> I hope you like this story as I liked writing it!

Aramis puts down the book he's reading when his phone buzzes on the table. He looks the ID and sighs deeply before answering. “Yes, Dupont?”.

“I know it's late and maybe you are busy with your date, but I have something important to show you and it can't wait until Monday. Can you meet me in the office?”.

“It is, and my date is fast asleep in her bed, thank you. And can't you tell me on the phone? I can't leave her alone, you know,” he says, running his hand through his hair.

“No, Aramis. It's important,” the other man begs.

“Okay, I'll ask Madame Lacroix if she can stay here for a little bit,” he says, hoping his neighbor will be still awake.

“Good. See you in a bit,” Dupont replies, hanging up without waiting for an answer.

Aramis sighs deeply, throwing the phone on the sofa. He's in the office half an hour later, knowing Madame Lacroix would be in his armchair knitting in that moment.

The office is dark when he steps inside. The main door of the building was open and the security agents were nowhere to be seen so he took the elevator and arrived at his floor in a matter of minutes.

“Dupont?” he calls to the empty office. “Dupont?”. He takes his phone from his pocket, discovering that there's no phone in it. “Damn! Dupont, where are you?” he calls again approaching his office. Only when he's outside the door does he notice the lamp on the desk is on, so he enters.

“Dupont? Francois?” he calls again. No reply. He goes to turn off the lamp when he stumbles on something. He swears again, looking down and withdraw shocked. Francois Dupont is on the floor, his throat slit open and the bloodied knife is near his head.

Aramis, after a moment, moves quickly, kneeling on the floor next to his coworker, one hand on his throat, trying to block the oozing blood, and the other throwing the knife far away from them.

“Please, hang on... please,” he murmurs, now with both hands on Dupont's throat. He continues to murmur to him even when the eyes lose their life and the blood stops pouring from the wound. He doesn't notice someone approaching him until he hears a gun being cocked.

“Hands up! Stand up and turn around!” a voice says behind him. He doesn't want to take his hand off Dupont but he knows he doesn't have a choice. So with a final look at the body in front of him, he stands, pulling his hands up and turns. Two policemen are in front of him, their pistols aimed at him.

“He needs help,” he tries to say. One of them go near him, crouching down, and examining the body.

“I think there's nothing we can do. He's dead,” he says. He looks carefully around him, spotting the knife. “And that is the murder weapon.”

“He was already like this when I arrived,” Aramis states.

“And why didn't you call the Police?” the officer asks.

“I... there's so much blood, I tried to stop it flowing,” he says.

“How did you enter here?” the man asks again.

“I'm working here. I'm the CEO of the company. Dupont asked me to meet him here, so I came,” he explains.

“Someone can prove it?” the officer goes on.

“My neighbor. I asked her a favor...” he looks at the wall clock above the door, “... an hour ago,” he swears mentally for the hour.

“And outside her, who else?”

“No one. When I arrived the main door was open and the security officer wasn't there. The building was empty,” he says, knowing that his alibi is only Madame Lacroix.

The officer looks at him, at his pale face and his bloody hands and Aramis knows he doesn't believe a word he said.

“Athos, I will call the coroner. You take care of him?” the younger asks, once he finished taking pictures of the crime scene.

“D'Artagnan, before doing that, take some photo of him, Monsieur?” Athos asks, expecting an answer.

“Aramis. Rene Aramis D'Herbaly,” Aramis answers. He's thinking to ask one of them if he can make a call when Athos speaks again. “Monsieur D'Herblay, I need you to follow us to the precinct, after my colleague has done with the evidences on you. And that means we need your shirt”.

Aramis nods, knowing is futile to argue with them. “Do you accuse me of something?” he asks when D'Artagnan puts his shirt in a plastic bag.

“You are suspected of murder, Monsieur D'Herblay,” Athos says glacially.

“So if you don't mind, I'd like to call my lawyer,” he answers, with the tone of voice he uses only when he works.

“Do you need a phone or you have your own?” D'Artagnan asks, extending his phone to him.

“I left mine at home, unfortunately,” he explains. He looks at his hands and, swearing again, he asks the young officer if he can dial the number for him.

He holds the phone between his face and his shoulder, praying someone would pick up.

“Hello?” a man asks.

“Porthos? It’s Aramis,” he says, relieved.

“Is Emma okay? Are you okay?” Porthos asks worriedly.

“She's okay, don't worry. She's with Madame Lacroix at the moment. It's me that needs your help,” he says, wanting to run his fingers through his hair, but he can't.

“What happened?” Porthos asks, becoming the lawyer in a heartbeat.

“Someone has killed Dupont, one of the firm associates, and the Police suspect I'm the killer,” he explains.

“I'm sending Elodie to pick up Emma, so she can stay with Marie. Don't say anything and wait for me. I'll join you at the precinct,” he says, hanging up.

He exhales loudly, motioning for D'Artagnan to take the phone. He closes his eyes, wanting nothing more than this nightmare will end soon.

\------------------

Athos, Detective De La Fere as Aramis discovers later, has granted him some minutes to wash his bloody hands and composes himself, before he brings him in a small dark room, only a dirty, grating window and a lamp hanging from the ceiling to illuminate it. A table and four chairs are the other furnitures in the room.

He sits down, putting his elbows on the table and, finally, running his hands through his hair. He can say for sure that a headache is coming. Nobody comes into the interrogation room and Aramis starts to relax a bit. The events of the last hours crashing down on him. The call, the journey to the empty and dark office, the body of Dupont lying on the floor of his office, the blood on his hands. He stands up abruptly, breathing hard. He tries to regain some control but he can't. The event is so much similar to one of his nightmares. When he can't hold anymore he scans the room, spotting a wastebasket. He runs to it, throwing up. He's about to clean his mouth on the borrowed shirt when a handkerchief appears in front of him.

“I think this is better than the sleeve of the shirt,” Athos drawls, behind him.

He nods. “Thanks,” he adds, taking it.

“When you are ready we can start, Monsieur D'Herblay,” Athos states, sitting on one of the chairs opposite to where he sat some moments ago.

He nods again, standing up and walking to his chair. A paper cup and a bottle of water are on the table. Detective De La Fere motions to him to fill the cup and drink and he does that, thanking him.

“So, can you tell me again why you were there, Monsieur D'Herblay?” Athos asks when Aramis finishes his water.

“I’m supposed to wait for my lawyer to talk to you,” Aramis answers.

“Monsieur Du Vallon is on his way. In the meantime can you give me some more information about you?” he replies, opening a manila folder and taking the pen in it.

Aramis is about to answer when the door opens, revealing an almost sweating Porthos behind it.

“Detective, I hope you didn't interrogate my client without me,” he says, slamming his briefcase on the table and sitting down next to Aramis.

“Of course not, Monsieur. I just asked your client about his personal data,” Athos says, closing the folder and looking at the lawyer.

“Even those information needs my supervision,” he says, his gaze furious. “I'd need a moment with my client if you don't mind,” he adds, still glaring at Athos.

“Of course. I'll come back in fifteen minutes,” Athos replies, leaving the two alone.

“Are you okay?” Porthos asks Aramis when the door closes behind the policeman.

“No. I don't know what happened,” he says, his headache painful.

“Why don't you tell me how this hell of night started?” Porthos says, stroking his hand on Aramis' back. He tells him everything. When he finishes, he needs to throw up again and Porthos stays with him, comforting him.

“I believe you were in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Porthos comments, once they return to their chair.

“He called me because he had something important to show me, Porthos. I don't think I was in the wrong place at least,” he tells him. “Emma?” he asks after another cup of water.

“She's with Elodie, don't worry. She didn't even wake up when El took her in her arms,” He explains, smiling.

“She was so tired that she almost fell asleep at dinner,” Aramis says, smiling too.

Porthos becomes serious. “Don't worry about her, you need only to hold on until I find a way to get you out of here”.

Aramis nods, holding back the tears. He is so tired, scared and his head hurts so much that if he could, he'll cry until he doesn't have tears anymore. He squeezes Porthos hand and sighs deeply.

Detective De La Fere chooses that moment to enter the room. And D'Artagnan is behind him. They sit down and start the interrogation. Athos is the one questioning, while D'Artagnan writes everything on the block notes he has with him. Aramis answers most of the questions but Porthos interferes in many more.

When both the detectives leave, Aramis is so tired that he could sleep with his head on the table.

“We're almost done, Aramis. Hold on a little bit and then I'll bring you home,” Porthos whispers in his ear.

Aramis nods,folding his arms on the table and putting his head on them. He really wants to go home.

“I'm sorry, Monsieur D'Herblay, but that is not possible,” Athos says, reentering the room.

“What?” Aramis exclaims, lifting his head from his arms.

“You are still suspected of murder, so until we can confirm your version, you are detained,” the detective answers.

“You can't do that,” Porthos says, slamming his hands on the table.

“Yes, I can. Monsieur D'Herblay will stay in one of our cells until tomorrow morning and then he'll be moved to the prison, where you'll stay for the next seventy-two hours, if you're lucky,” Athos explains to a pale Aramis.

“I'll call the judge first thing tomorrow morning and I request a preliminary hearing as soon as possible. I'll bring you home, Aramis,” Porthos states, sad and angry at the same time.

“And Emma? I can't leave my daughter alone,” he replies, angry.

"Elodie and I will take care of her. And I call Anne and Constance if the need arises. Don't worry about her,” Porthos tells him, squeezing his shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

Aramis only nods and follow Athos outside the room. They give him an empty cell, with a bench and a blanket. He takes the blanket, wrapping it around him and sit on the floor, in the furthest corner from the door. He doesn't sleep, but he cries, like he hasn’t done for the last year.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Porthos arranges a preliminary hearing two days later. And in that time Aramis has to share the cell with a thief, eat horrible food, be alone, and be without his daughter. Porthos meets with him the day after his arrest, asking if he needs something and Aramis shakes his head, he doesn't want to open his mouth in case the first thing he say would be that he wants his daughter. Porthos recaps what he said to him at the precinct and say that his fingerprints were found on the murder weapon.

“It's because I threw it away from Dupont,” he says, defeated.

Porthos replies that it understandable and asks other questions.

“How is she?” Aramis asks while Porthos write down his answers.

“Fine, she asks about you... a lot,” Porthos replies, looking at him. He doesn't say that he and Elodie had a hard time putting  her to bed and that she cries because she wants her daddy. Aramis understands anyway.

“You'll be home soon. After the preliminary hearing, the judge will set the bail and I'll bring you home,” Porthos says, trying to be reassuring.

“If I have the money to pay it,” Aramis says, lowering his gaze.

“I'll pay it. Or Louis will pay it. He and Anne are so worried about you. Anne even asks if she can take care of Emma while you are here,” Porthos says.

“She is so good to me. I don't deserve her friendship,” Aramis states, guilty.

“Don't start saying that she sticks with you only because she owes it to Isabelle, because it's not true,” Porthos replies, angry that his friend is certain to not deserve what he has, after all, he went through.

“I know, I know. I was doing good, but passing my time in a cell with nothing to do but think and overthink, drives me crazy. I'm sorry,” he says to himself.

“Okay, don't worry. After the consultation I'll bring you directly at home. And Louis told me he will wait for you at the firm, first thing Monday morning. You'll have your life back, and your job,” Porthos states. “And Elodie, Constance, and I will be there for you, anytime,” he adds after a moment.

Aramis nods, not sure about his voice,  to what his friend just said.

\------------------

He dresses in the clothes Porthos brought him and stands in front of the judge. He doesn't hear a word of what she's saying, his mind focused on breathing in and out slowly and trying to not panic.

At some point he feels an hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight, and a hot body next to him.

“Aramis, Aramis? Are you with me?” Porthos asks.

“Eh?” he replies, focusing on what's happening around him.

“It's almost over. We're waiting for you for the bail,” he says to him, nodding toward the judge.

“Oh... Yes, I'm sorry. I was lost in thoughts,” he says, standing.

The judge sets the bail to one million, orders Aramis to not leave the country and confiscates his passport.

“But I didn't have so much money!” Aramis exclaims.

“So Monsieur D'Herblay, you'll stay in the prison until the start of the trial, in two weeks,” the judge says, standing up and leaving the courtroom.

The prosecutor smirks and leaves the room as well. Aramis looks at him and then at Porthos.

“I'll find the money, don't worry,” his lawyer says, squeezing his shoulder in sympathy. Aramis nods, not looking at him and when the guards approach, to bring him back to his cell, he raises his hands for the handcuffs, going willingly with them.

\------------------

It's almost time for dinner, if what the canteen serves can be called dinner, when a guard unlocks his cell door.

“D'Herblay, with me,” he says, turning as soon the words leave his mouth. Aramis watches him carefully, says nothing, and follows him. The guard leads him to a room where he changes again into the clothes he had this morning, then motions to him to follow him again. When the guard opens the door Aramis sees he's in the admission room. The guard behind the desk gives him his personal effects and then points behind Aramis.

Anne Bourbon is standing next to the door, her smile small and tender and Aramis knows exactly how Porthos found the money. He groans, thinking that he'll need to talk about it with Porthos, after thanking him for it.

Anne doesn't say anything until they are in the car waiting for them outside the prison.

“I'm sorry it took me so much time to find the money, but Louis had to talk with a lot of people to have them all ready,” she babbles.

“It's okay, don't worry,” he replies, taking her hand in his. “You did more than enough. Thank you,” he adds so quietly that he doesn't know if she heard him.

“Oh, Aramis,” she cries, launching herself in his arms, hugging him tightly. He hugs her back, trying hard not to crumble in front of one of his bosses. She withdraws, her eyes full of unshed tears. “I'm so sorry,” she apologizes. “I know you didn't kill Francois. We all know,” she says, squeezing the hand still in hers. He nods, not knowing what to say and she continues. “Louis wants you to come back to work as soon as you feel right to do it. And he wants to see you Monday morning to discuss some things he didn't say to me. In any case you'll have our support as friends as well as bosses,” she explains, regaining some of her usual attitude.

“I don't think it's wise for me to show up at the office, but if Louis needs so much to talk to me I can come. Or we can meet somewhere else, some place with less people that know me,” he tells her. He doesn't want to see his colleagues look at him with pity or with hatred. She tries to say something about it but he stops her. “Please, tell Louis this, and if it's not okay, I'll be in his office at the time he wants me there”.

She nods, knowing Aramis needs time to reflect and to feel normal again after this few days. She looks outside the window, recognizing Aramis' neighborhood and she turns again toward him. “We'll almost there,” she says, hugging him tightly one more time and release him only when the car stops in front of his house.

The driver opens the door for them and after she states he can go, he nods, closing the door and leaving them alone.

Aramis runs the last few steps that separate him from his home and is surprised when the door opens without him unlocking it.

“Welcome back!” Constance screams, launching herself into his arms. She hugs him and, after a moment of astonishment, he hugs her back.

A shouted “Daddy” is heard from the door and Aramis has time to release Constance and crouch before a little blonde tornado crashes against him.

“Emma,” he breaths against his daughter's hair. He holds her for a while and even when he finally enters in his house, his friends waiting for him in the dining room. There are drinks and food on the table and the rest is decorated as if for a party. Aramis smiles at Elodie and Marie and hugs Louis with the arm free of his daughter.

Emma doesn't leave him for a moment, clutching at him every time he tries to rise from his chair or turns to talk to someone. Elodie and Constance had prepared every dish he likes and he tastes everything they put on his plate.

Is past midnight when Louis and Anne say goodbye to everyone. Aramis is sprawled on the sofa, Emma is sleeping on him, and Constance is sitting on the carpet at his feet. Elodie is dozing in the armchair with a sleeping Marie in the stroller next to her. Porthos is leaning against the armrest, talking quietly with Constance when Aramis lifts his head. “I'm going to take a shower if someone is able to free me from this monkey,” he declares, grinning at his daughter.

“She's a parasite, not a monkey,” Porthos says, grinning at his relaxed friend.

“Yes, but she is my parasite,” he replies, sitting up.

Constance shakes her head and, trying not to wake the little girl, she slides her arms under Emma, kissing her head when the baby snuggles in her arms.

Aramis kisses both of them and leaves the room. Once in the bathroom he takes off his clothes and steps inside the shower stall, turning on the hot water. He washes every part at least three times, scrubbing his skin until he is red from the sponge and the water and washes his hair three times before he is satisfied. He then steps out, puts on the bathrobe and walks to his bedroom with his feet still wet. On the bed there are a t-shirt, a pair of boxer and his favorite sleeping pants. He smiles, put everything on and return to the living room.

“You should dry your hair,” Constance says from her place on the sofa. Emma is nowhere to be seen and he panicked a little. “I put her in her bed while you showered,” she adds, sensing her friend’s discomfort.

“Even when she know you'll bring her to bed with you as soon as we leave here,” Porthos says, smirking.

“And we don't hold this against you, not after all these days without her,” Constance steps in.

He nods, knowing his friends know him well and thanks them for everything. “Even if I should strangle you for what you did,” he says to Porthos.

“I told you I'd find the money and so I did,” Porthos replies innocently.

“Yes, I know. It's only that now Louis want them back and I don't really know how to find so much money,” he says, sprawling once again on the sofa.

“No, he doesn't. We have an agreement,” Porthos says, not revealing more.

“I hope it'd be like you say because, if not, you'll help me with the sum,” Aramis warns Porthos, smirking when he sees the face his friend makes. He transforms the smirk in a smile when he notices Elodie is sleeping in the armchair.

“Yeah, I think it's time for me to bring my girls back home before I'll not be able to wake El,” Porthos says looking between his friend and his wife. “At least if you don't want us here for tonight,” he adds.

“No, go home and sleep. Anyway, I know you'll be here tomorrow morning before go to the studio,” he jokes.

“Okay. I'll bring pastries,” Porthos promises. He smiles at him and turns to wake up his wife.

“I can stay if you want,” Constance murmurs, stroking his still damp hair.

“I don't think it's necessary. But I won't throw you out of the door if it's what you're thinking,” he murmurs back, placing his head in the crook of her neck.

“Okay. I'll be in the guest room,” she says, not stopping what she's doing.

“You already put your things there, didn’t you?” he states, closing his eyes.

“Yes, of course,” she replies, kissing his head.

“Alright, we're ready,” Porthos declares, with a sleepy Elodie next to him and the stroller with Marie loaded with their stuff. Aramis stands up reluctantly and Constance follows him.

“I packed everything so you don't have to cook for the next week, at least,” Elodie says, hugging and giving him a kiss.

“A month you should say, but thanks,” he tells her, smiling.

“You're welcome, darling,” she replies, going to Constance for her hug.

“The one with the apple that I love,” he says to Porthos, when his friend embraces him, squeezing him tight.

“Of course. Maybe two or three so you don't have to be in withdrawal for at least four hours,” he replies, laughing.

“Thanks... for everything,” he whispers, clinging to him.

“Anytime, brother,” Porthos whispers back.

Aramis releases him, squeezing his shoulder and then sees them to the door.

“Please, take care of him,” Porthos tells Constance when he's outside.

“Don't worry about it,” she promises. She waves at them when the car leaves the courtyard and then follows Aramis inside.

He doesn't have to do much because the others took care of tidying the dining room and to put away the food. He opens the fridge and it's full of food packets with all the dishes they ate this evening. He smiles and closes it, going to turn off the light in every room he passes. Constance follows him to the first floor and into Emma's room where he takes his daughter in his arms and cradles her a little bit before going to his room. He puts her down and Constance knows it's her cue to bid him goodnight and goes to her bedroom.

“Constance, thank you so much,” he whispers, leaning on the door.

“Don't mention it,” she replies, turning toward his room and giving him a hug, kissing his cheek.

“Goodnight, darling,” she says.

“Goodnight, Connie,” he murmurs, closing the door behind him and getting into the bed. He thinks that everything will be alright when he closes his eyes, his beautiful baby asleep in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the comments and kudos I received. I'm happy you like this story and I hope you stick with me for the rest of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Sleep doesn't come. He opens his eyes after several minutes, Emma still asleep beside him, and groans. He thought that once at home he would be able to sleep but sleep still avoids him. He turns on his side, careful to not jostle his daughter and looks at his phone. The face of his baby girl and the time are the only things he sees. He unlocks it and searches for the mail icon, sure that his inbox is full. He groans again at the sight of the hundreds of unread emails and starts to delete the ads.

There's one from his parents. He marks it as important and then goes on to scroll. He doesn't have the strength to read and, worse, reply to it right now. Maybe tomorrow. Or never. Once he has finished, he locks the phone, turns toward his daughter, counts to three and then turns again to pick up the phone and unlock it. He slides through the pages, opening apps and closing them, not knowing what to do. He ends up opening the pictures folder, looking at every one. Most of them are his daughter, playing, sleeping, eating or doing something, the others are him with Porthos, Constance, Elodie. Or Marie and Emma together. Or he and Emma. Or, when he arrives at the older ones, himself, Isabelle, and baby Emma. He scrunches his eyes, not wanting to cry over them and what they mean. He stays with his eyes closed breathing deeply, when he hears something. He cracks an eye open looking from where the noise comes from. The door opens slightly and Constance's head peers in. He thinks to fake being asleep but the light coming from the phone betrays him. And maybe company is not a bad idea considering that moments ago he was on the verge of breaking down and crying.

“Connie? What are you doing here?” he whispers, opening his eyes and sitting up.

“And why are you still awake?” she asks, not answering to his question, but walking inside and sitting down on the bed.

“I couldn't sleep,” he answers simply. He locks the phone, putting it on the nightstand.

“And I was checking on you two,” she replies, smiling. He knows she was worried and he's grateful he didn't kick her out of his house.

“Can you keep me company?” he adds after a couple of minutes in silence.

“Of course, darling,” she says, sitting at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs. He mimics her pose, leaning slightly on the pillows behind him.

“How was work?” Aramis asks when the silence becomes unbearable. He doesn't want to think about his last few days so Constance's recap of her days at work is better than nothing.

“Oh good, if you think falling asleep with a stack of uncorrected schoolwork is okay,” she replies, shutting her mouth when the thought that he passed his nights in a cell thinking of things he didn't want to think, occurs her. “Anyway, work is good,” she adds, smiling at him.

“Good. And Constance? Don't think that I don't know what are you thinking. And falling asleep with work covering your bed is not good at all,” he says, smiling.   
She nods, smiling too. She finds that is not simple talking about her boring days at school when her listener has passed the last weekend in a prison. But she knows that even the smallest distraction is good for Aramis, so she talks. She tells him about her classes, her kids, and the topic of her lessons. He asks about her free time and she tells him about her new handsome neighbor and the walk in the park with Elodie and the girls.

“Okay, I know you'd have never thought of hearing this from me but tell me about the hot neighbor,” he says when she finishes.

“So you're not interested in what your daughter did? I'm impressed, you grow tired of her so soon,” she replies, pretending to be scandalized.

“No, but you can't drop a bomb like that and pretend that I won't ask about it. We have time to talk about Emma once you've finished with that,” he says, leaning toward her, his elbows on the knees and his face in his hands. She grins, happy to see Aramis so involved and curious, completely different from the man she meets this evening.

“He's gorgeous! I met him a few times on the stairs and on my floor. He smiles at me every time and he seems so shy and embarrassed. He's tall and slim, and he has this Mediterranean look, with his big brown eyes and his bronzed skin... Oh, Aramis, he's hot, very hot and I can't stop thinking about him,” she explains. He smiles, because how he can not smile with a flushed Constance describing this handsome and mysterious man.

“Okay, I get it, he's hot. Did you talk to him? Did he? Do you know his name?” Aramis asks, really interested in this man who was able to conquer his friend's heart in so little time. Not like that Jacques, who considered Constance only for her family business and the money he could have from it.

“We shared only some pleasantry, some good mornings, but nothing else. And I heard a man, maybe a colleague, call him Charles, or Charlie,” she answers him. “And he's really a gentleman. He opened the door for me once I came back from shopping, asking if he could help me with the bags. And I saw him doing it with that old lady living on the second floor, so I know he didn't do it to impress me,” she adds, suspecting her friend’s train of thoughts.

“Maybe he noticed you looking at him and he did that to impress you,” he tries, smiling at her face. He loves teasing her.

“Anyway if he did it to impress me, he succeeded,” she says rolling her eyes.

“Okay, but if he'll ask you out I want to meet him, so I know who I need to kill if you come back in tears,” he says, still teasing her.

“You won't be able... Or yes?” she asks, cursing mentally for what she just say.

“No, probably not,” he answers, lowering his gaze on his hands in his lap.

“Of course you wouldn't be able. You are so good and kind, you couldn't hurt a fly,” she says, trying to lift his mood. “And I didn't say that he has a beautiful voice too, so warm and sexy,” she adds, returning to the previous subject of their chat.

“No, you didn't. So he has a beautiful voice, and he looks like an Italian actor, what then?” he asks, noticing her attempt to change the subject and welcomes it.

“I think he must have some kind of dangerous job. Because I'm sure I spotted a holster under his jacket that time he helped me,” she says, pondering about it.

“Maybe he's a secret agent like James Bond and you could be one of his conquests,” he replies, laughing at the thought.

“Oh, shut up! I knew I should never say anything to you about him,” she says, offended.

He grins at her and she can't be angry with him when he does that face, so she yields.

“I know what you're doing and you know I become angrier so please stop,” she says, smiling at him.

“Alright, let's consider this a truce and tell me about your day at the park with Emma,” he replies, yawning and leaning once again against his pillows.

She tells him about the day, recounting Emma's faces when she put her on the horse in the carousel, or the fact that his daughter follow a butterfly for over half an hour and that Constance at the end is so tired that she couldn't even walk back to the car while the little girl would still run and play. When she notice that Aramis has his eyes closed she continues to narrate in a low, soothing voice, until she hears the soft snoring coming from her friend. She places the covers better over him and, after a quick peck on his forehead, she leaves the room, heading for her own. When she looks at the alarm clock on the little nightstand next to the bed, she sees that it's almost five and she prays he will have some sleep before Porthos will come back for the breakfast.

\------------------

Constance has Emma's bottle of milk ready when she hears the baby is awake. She steps inside the room, where the little girl is not only awake but in the process of waking her father too. Constance calls her and Emma turns, smiling and starts saying “Auntie, auntie” without taking any breath.

Constance lift her up, kissing her. “Why don't we go to have breakfast while your daddy sleeps some more?” she asks, knowing the little girl won't answer her.

“Milk, milk;” she replies instead. Constance smiles, leading a hungry baby to the kitchen, and leaving Aramis still asleep.

The little girl has already finished her breakfast and is watching cartoons when Porthos arrives.

“Aramis?” he asks, putting down the promised pastries and sitting at the table.

“Asleep,” Constance replies from her spot at the sink. “He had a bad night and fell asleep only at five,” she adds, drying her hands and approaching him.

“I have only half an hour before heading to the study. Do you have the morning free?” Porthos asks, pouring the hot coffee Constance has prepared.

“No, I have to be at school in an hour so he needs to be awake when I leave,” she says, accepting the second mug of the morning.

“I'm awake,” is the sleepy reply coming from the threshold.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Porthos welcomes Aramis. He pours some coffee into a mug and hands it to him. Aramis nods, accepting it and he sits at the table, his hands already in his hair. He doesn't notice the pastry Porthos slides in front of him.

“Eat,” Porthos orders, taking his place in front of his still sleepy friend.

Aramis eats and drinks and he listens his friends talking about everything and nothing. He has a headache and he'd prefer to be in his warm bed, sleeping, but he knows it's not possible when you have an almost two year daughter to take care of, and a house to keep going, so he opts for another cup of coffee and a shower while he still has Constance and Porthos to look for Emma.

When he emerges from the bedroom he still has the headache but he feels more awake.

“Darling, I'm sorry but I need to go. I have to pass by home to take those schoolwork I told you before heading to work,” she says when Aramis shows up in the kitchen.

“And they are waiting for me at the study so I have to go too. Can you manage until lunch time?” Porthos asks, giving a quick kiss to Emma and Constance and a squeeze to Aramis' shoulder.

“It's my home and that is my daughter, so I think I can manage all day,” he replies, smirking at him.

“Okay, but if you feel lonely, call El,” Porthos says, laughing at him when Aramis looks at Emma like saying “how can I feel lonely when this tornado doesn't stop talking?”. “You know what I'm saying. When you need a break from the baby chatting, you call her, okay?” he adds.

“Yes, I'll call her when I'll get bored of my baby asking for dolls and cartoons on repeat,” he replies, shoving the big man and Constance outside the door and closing it behind them.

He leans against it, taking a big breath and closing his eyes.

“Daddy,” Emma calls from the living room.

“Coming,” he says, smiling and walking to his daughter. She is perched on the sofa, a doll in her hand and the rest of the toys scattered on the carpet. And it's only nine. He sits down next to her, trying to bring her down and seated next to him. He's almost done when the doorbell rings. He gives up, picking her up and go to the door.

“Rene!” His mother exclaims as soon as he opens it.

“Mom, Dad,” he greets them. He wonders what the hell they're doing here.

“You never answered our mail so we came to check on you and Emma,” his mother says, moving him away and picking her granddaughter up.

“She made me come visit you. And you know that I can't say no to her,” his father whispers when he enters into the house. Aramis sighs loudly and closes the door. It'll be a long day.

When he reaches them, Beatriz, his mother, is already complaining about the chaos in the living room and Henri, his father, is making faces at Emma, mocking his wife for sure.

“Mom, don't worry about that. She'll do it again as soon as you finish,” he tries to say.

“Nonsense, this is the living room and it should be clean and presentable. Not this playground with toys and things scattered everywhere. Why don't you let her play in her room?” she scolds him.

“Because I don't hear her and I should check every few minutes. Here she's comfortable and she has everything she wants. And I can let her play without worrying,” he replies, rubbing a hand on his aching head. He knows it's fruitless arguing with his mother when she has something in mind so when she starts cleaning the room from the toys he turns, deciding that it's time for his second mug of coffee of the day.

Henri joins him some minutes later and he pours himself some coffee too. He sits down again, sipping his warm drink in a pleasant silence.

“She went to change Emma clothes,” his father says, looking at him. He wonders if she's already dirty or if his mother doesn't like the clothes Constance chose. He suspects the second.

“How are you?” his father asks, playing with the handle of his cup. Aramis doesn't know how to respond. If he says he's fine, his father might not believe him, asking for the real answer. If he says he's unwell, they might stay here to cocoon him.

“Angry, and worried,” he opts at the end.

“It's understandable, after all you go through,” Henri says, lifting his cup and taking a sip.

“It wasn't me,” he tells him. He doesn't know why he feels the need to clarify.

“I know,” his father says. Aramis looks up and see the small smile and the look of belief on his father.

“Mom?” he asks, not sure about the question he wants to say.

“She believes in you, and she knows her son is not a murderer,” Henri replies. “And she is worried for you,” he adds after a moment.  
  
“I'm fine,” Aramis states in reflex. He then bites his lower lips, takes a deep breath and tries again. “I'm doing okay for now. I'm only angry at everything.”

His father nods, drinking the already cold coffee. “Your mother wants you and Emma come to stay with us at least until the trial, if not until the end of it,” he tells him, the now empty mug in front of him.

“I can't,” Aramis replies, looking down into his cup.

“Why? I don't have anything to do here and we can take care of Emma while you relax and focus on the trial,” his father says.

“I have my life here. And even if I welcome your help with Emma, I'll going crazy if I stay with you and mom for two weeks, if not more. And we already discussed this,” he explains, standing up and bringing Henri's cup to the sink.

“This is not like the time with Isabelle,” his father replies.

“That was worse and I managed well on my own, so why try to convince me again?” he asks watching his father from his new spot next to the stove.

“Because that time you were grieving. This time you need some safe place in case the news will spread,” his father explains.

“This is my safe place, with my daughter. And I have Porthos and Constance and Anne near me if the news spreads,” he retorts.

“Okay, do as you want. But please, consider this option,” Henri says. Aramis nods and he's about to say something when his mother and Emma appear in the kitchen.

She definitely didn't like how Constance dressed Emma.


	4. Chapter 4

It's several days later that he receives a visitor other than one of his friends. The day starts as usual. He wakes up to his daughter calling from her bed in the next room. Constance, who slept there in the last few days, is already up and with his and Emma’s breakfast and ready for work.

“I'll come back for lunch,” she says, smiling.

“You know that I can manage alone with my daughter for one day, right?” he replies, letting his baby girl get down from his arms.

“Yes, I know. But I care about both of you so, please humor me and let me,” she says, picking up her bag and heading for the door.

“Okay. So, what do you want for lunch?” he asks, smirking.

“Surprise me,” she replies, blowing a kiss and leaving the house.

He's still smirking when he sits down, his coffee and the pastries Porthos had brought in front of him.

\------------------

He's sitting in front of his computer when his phone rings.

“Hello?” he asks, not looking the ID.

“Rene? It's Catherine,” Isabelle's mother says. He squeezes his eyes shut in irritation. She called the first day he was home but Anne picked up and she managed to not let her talk with him.

“Hi Catherine, how are you?” he asks, trying to sound interested.

“It's me that should ask that to you. I tried to call you several times in the last days and you didn't answer. I don't know if you did it on purpose or not,” she replies coldly.

“I'm good, thanks. I was busy, so that is why I didn't answer your calls,” he says, hoping she doesn't press anymore.

“It's strange because I know you didn't go to work for a week,” she says. He groans, passing his fingers through his hair. “Why didn't you tell us about that? Why did I have to find out about it from my gossipy neighbor?” she adds.

“Because I didn't want others to know it. That's why,” he says, frustrated.

“But if you told us we could take care of Emma,” she argues back.

“Emma was, and is in good hands, thank you,” he states, angry. He doesn't want to argue with her about what happened. He doesn't want to argue with her about anything.

“But we are her grandparents, it's different from your friends,” she says.

“Catherine, please. You said the same thing the last time and I replied the same,” he says, exhausted.

“But we are her mother's parents, the only relatives she has,” she replies, indignant.

“I'm her father. You're not the only relatives she has, so don't say that,” he says, standing up from his chair, shouting into the phone.

“I'm sorry, I know you are her father, but we care about her too,” Catherine apologizes.

“I know you care, but I can look after her too,” he replies, still angry. He suspects there's something his “mother-in-law” doesn't tell him.

“ Is it true that the trial is in ten days?” she asks, after a bit.

“Yes, unfortunately,” he replies, still thinking where she's heading.

“We can look after Emma during that time,” she says, like the argument they had some moments ago didn't exist. He groans, cursing mentally. So that is the reason why she called.

“No, thank you. I have already settled her for the times I'll be in the courthouse,” he replies, gritting his teeth to keep from shouting at her again.

“Oh, okay. Do you mind if we visit?” she tries.

“No, not at all, you know you're welcome here,” he replies, his fingers again in his hair.

“Okay, thank you. Give Emma a big kiss from us,” she says.

“Of course. Bye,” he says before hanging up. He sighs loudly, leaning against the doorframe of the living room. Emma looks up, calling him and then returns to her dolls, happy.

\------------------

After lunch Constance claims that she has a lot of paperwork to do, asking if he doesn't mind if she goes home for the afternoon, and he's more than happy to let her go. He even says to her that he wants updates about her hot neighbor. She blushes and he smirks, knowing she'll return for dinner with more than that.

He lulls Emma to sleep and when she's out, then he goes to the living room, tidying, for now, the chaos his daughter made. It's then that the doorbell rings.

“Coming,” he exclaims, praying that the sound wouldn't wake his baby. He expects to find Porthos or Elodie on the other side, instead, there are Detective De La Fere and Detective D'Artagnan on the ledge.

“Good afternoon, Monsieur D'Herblay,” Detective De La Fere says. “We are sorry to interrupt you but we're here to ask some more questions,” he adds, a little smile on his face.

“I thought you were done with me,” he replies, rubbing his head, a headache coming.

“Yes we thought that too, but...” D'Artagnan says, stopping when he sees the look Athos points at him.

“Can we come in, Monsieur D'Herblay?” the senior officer asks.

“Yes, of course,” Aramis replies, not wanting them crashing into his house against his will.

The two policemen sit at the table when Aramis points to the chairs.

“So what are these new questions?” he asks as soon as he sits.

“First we have to tell you that we checked the cameras around the building and they were off the night Monsieur Dupont was killed,” Athos says, sipping the coffee Aramis offered them when they entered in his house.

“And we found the security officer you said was working that night, and he claimed he wasn't there,” D'Artagnan adds, his notebook and pen in front of him.

“You're saying that I lied? I know the security officers’ shifts. Everyone knows that,” he interrupts the policeman.

“The officer said he was sick that day and someone else was sent to cover his shift,” D'Artagnan reads from his notebook.

“A new officer from the agency he works for,” Athos says before Aramis could interrupt them again.

“They need to call me, Monsieur Bourbon or his wife if they change something or add a new security,” Aramis says, calm.

“And you didn't receive a call from them?” officer De La Fere asks.

“No, I could let you check my phone, but I know you already have the phone record for that day,” he says, playing with the phone he picks up from his pocket.

“Yes, we already checked it. And Monsieur Bourbon and his wife’s phones too. Neither of you received a call from or called the security agency. And the officer said the truth,” Athos says, thinking that there's something missing there.

“So you came here only to say that you don't have more proof?” Aramis asks.

“No, we're here for another thing. We found another body,” De La Fere states, looking at Aramis with interest.

“And you suspect me for that too?” he replies, thinking only on his days in prison. He can’t imagine whose body they found.

“We need to ask,” D'Artagnan walks in, the pen scratching on the paper.

“I didn't leave the house from the day I come back,” Aramis says. “And I have someone still with me, day and night,” he adds, knowing they want an alibi.

“Okay,” Athos says, still looking at him for some kind of faux pas, and not finding any of it. “But we need to know about Monsieur Lefevre,” he adds.

“Gerard? Oh my God,” Aramis exclaims, thinking about the associate. “What you want to know?” he asks, sad for the good man and angry for who is killing his colleagues.

“Everything,” D'Artagnan replies, turning the sheet so he can take more notes. And so Aramis tells them.

When he finishes, he drinks all the coffee in his cup, thinking about what happened.

“Where you were yesterday around 6 pm, Monsieur D'Herblay?” Athos asks, giving some time so Aramis can compose himself.

“Here, with Emma. Elodie Du Vallon and her daughter, plus my friend Constance, were here with me” he replies, his throat still a little bit dry.

“Du Vallon? Like your lawyer?” D'Artagnan inquires.

“Yes. Porthos and I know each other from school,” Aramis states. He doesn't want to tell them his whole life so he doesn't go on.

“And who is Emma?” D'Artagnan asks, not seeing Athos' glare. Aramis doesn't have time to answer because a “Daddy,” and a cry, resound in the house. He doesn't say anything while he stands up and runs toward the cry. When he returns, some minutes later, he has a little girl in his arms. She has her face hidden in the crook of his neck, and her little hands are gripping her father’s shirt, but Athos sees that she is blonde and she isn't more than two years old.

“This is Emma,” Aramis answers in almost a whisper. D'Artagnan has his mouth open and is perfectly still, not knowing what to do.

“Hey, baby girl, why don't you say hi to these men?” Aramis asks to her. Emma turns, whispering “Hi,” and then retakes her place in her father’s arms.

“I'm sorry but she didn't wake up well,” Aramis says as apology.

“Don't worry, Monsieur D'Herblay,” Athos tells him, his mind working fast. “I think we have enough for now,” he adds, standing up. He thanks Aramis for the coffee, and grabbing a still unresponsive D'Artagnan, he heads for the door, stating that he'll contact Aramis if something happens.

Aramis has nothing to do but close the door after he's sure they will not come back.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Monday morning sees Aramis waiting for Elodie to babysit Emma while he is with Louis. They planned to meet in a cafè near the office so he doesn't have to deal with his colleagues. He chose one of the suits he always wears when he works instead of the sweatpants and t-shirt he uses at home. When finally Elodie arrives with Marie, he kisses his daughter and leaves them.

His car is where he usually parks it. Someone, he suspects Porthos, drove it from the company building after he was arrested. But when he sits on the driver’s seat, it's not where it should be if Porthos had driven it. Maybe Louis hired someone from the company to bring the car back. He'll ask him when he sees him later. He starts the engine and leaves.

At first everything seems normal. Driving always relaxes Aramis, even when he's stressed from work or tired from his sleepless night with a sick baby. This time is no exception. At least it's what he thinks at first. His house is in one of the residential zones and he needs to cover half the city to arrive at work. And it's Monday morning so the traffic is chaotic. But he can't shrug off a sickening feeling, like the one he had when Isabelle... He shakes his head, trying to not dive in those tragic moments. But the sickening feeling is still there. He looks in the rear-view mirror, noticing a black car that seems to follow him. Like the others behind it. “Workers,” he thinks, turning on the radio. He tries to relax, whistling the song the radio is playing, and then, after some time, he looks up again. The black car is still there. He turns onto a street with not so much traffic, and speeds up. The black car turns onto the same street and follows him. He curses loudly and speeds up again. But he sees too late that there's a stop in front of him. He presses his foot on the brake but it doesn't work. He tries again and again, but the brake doesn't respond to his command. And the stop is too close. He decides to do the only thing he comes up with to stop his ride. He pulls the handbrake.

The car slides and turns, facing the street on its side and Aramis tries everything to bring it back on the street. But the car goes on its way, scraping and hitting every surface it meets. Aramis moves with the car, hitting and bouncing in the cabin, the car ricocheting wildly in the street. When the front hits what he thinks is a garbage bin, his body slides on the right, hitting the gearbox with the wrist of his hand. The pain is immediate and he screams in agony. But he has only moments because he hits the window, on the opposite side, with his head. The last thing he remembers before losing consciousness is that, finally, the car has stopped its ride.

\------------------

There's a beeping sound and a murmur that disturb his sleep. He tries to move his right hand, but the motion sends pangs of pain to his wrist. His head hurts too and breathing pains him. The smell of disinfectant tells him what his brain is still processing. He's in the hospital. A groan escapes his lips and the murmur ceases. He tries to open his eyes, but his eyelids seem glued together. He breathes, another pang through his chest, and try again. When he has only a sliver of eyes open he closes them, the light too bright.

“Easy,” the murmur says. He feels a hand in his hair and he relaxes immediately, recognizing it as Constance's. “See? Is not so difficult,” she adds when a sigh of contentment leaves his mouth.

“Don't talk right now,” she says when she sees him turning his head toward her. “You were in a car accident and you hit your head, smashing the window. You have a concussion, some bruised ribs, and you broke your right wrist,” she tells him. That's why he feels like a truck ran over him. He passes his tongue on his parched lips and the hand disappears. After a moment it's behind his head, a cup full of water inches from his lips. “Drink,” Constance commands. He does as she said and sips. “Not too much,” she adds, moving the cup away. He groans again, but even if he drank only a little bit he feels better. Constance resumes her place, her hand running through his hair. They stay like that for some minutes, when a thought occurs Aramis. “Emma?” he rasps, his voice still a little rough.

“Elodie. You left her with El and Marie this morning. Do you remember it?” she says, watching for any sign of recollection. He nods imperceptibly, but she sees that and sighs. Then she notices his attempts to open his eyes and she scrambles from the chair to close the curtains. In the dim light, he finally opens them only a sliver but it's enough for both of them. He smiles and relaxes a little bit more, knowing he's battered but alive and his daughter is safe and sound with Porthos' wife.

“The hospital called me,” Constance says after some time. He nods, knowing exactly that she is his emergency call. And Porthos. But if he didn't answer it means he was in the courtroom.

“They said your car crashed against a wall,” she adds when the silence is too much. He doesn't respond because he's trying to recollect what really happened. He remembers taking the car and most of the ride but he doesn't remember what happened after the black car...

“Some... someone followed me,” he rasps, when the memory of the car behind him at every turn comes to his mind.

“Followed you? What are you talking about?” she gasps, looking in his eyes for confirmation. He opens his mouth for an answer when a knock on the door interrupts him. Who is on the other side doesn't wait for an answer and Aramis sees Detective De La Fere enters his hospital room a minute later, followed by his young companion.

“Good day, Monsieur D'Herblay. I'm sorry to show up like this but we were informed that you were involved in a car accident this morning,” Athos greets him. D'Artagnan after his first two step, is motionless next to the door, staring at Constance. Aramis sees that his friend is watching the young officer in turn and it seems that she completely forgot where she is. He leaves them to be, turning his gaze toward the detective at the foot of the bed.

“Yes,” he replies, his voice a whisper. He notices Constance jerks her head, turning to him and Athos.

“He was telling me that someone followed him,” she says to Athos. He raises his eyebrow at her statement and looks Aramis again.

“Is that true, Monsieur D'Herblay?” he asks, still skeptical.

“Yes, a black car followed me from my home to the place of the accident,” Aramis replies, now sure of what happened. “I tried to leave it behind but it followed me. At some point, there was a stop in front of me, but when I tried to slow down the brake didn't work,” he explains. He doesn't know if they'll believe him but at least he tried. He tells them every specific detail, especially of the car, and when he has finished he slumps on the pillow behind him, exhausted.  
“I suppose your car was taken away with a tow truck, right?” Athos asks, taking his block and pen.

“Yes, I suppose it is. Why do you ask?” Aramis inquires, his headache almost unbearable.

“Because if what you said it's true, we need to inspect it for some other evidence,” Athos replies, still looking at him and ignoring his companion.

“Oh, yes. Of course,” he replies. He gives them all the details, watching the detective writing everything down and then closes his eyes.

“I think it's enough for now,” Athos says when he sees Aramis is in pain. “You need to rest. This is my business card. Please use it if you need something,” he adds, giving the card to Constance but still talking to Aramis. He says goodbye then, dragging D'Artagnan away.

\------------------

“I think he said the truth. What do you say D'Artagnan?” Athos asks when he starts the engine of his car. “D'Art?” he tries again when the younger detective doesn't respond.

“Eh?” It's all D'Artagnan says.

“I said that I think he was saying the truth. That someone has tried to kill him,” he repeats, driving toward the deposit where Aramis' car is.

“Oh yes, yes. I believe him too,” D'Artagnan replies, his gaze still unfocused.

“You weren't paying attention, right? Or better, you weren't paying attention to Monsieur D'Herblay, but to his lovely friend, am I right?” he teases him.

“Oh, shut up! When we went to his house you passed the whole journey back to the station talking about him, and not in a professional way,” D'Artagnan retorts back.

Athos glares at him, like his companion just punched him in the face. “I was wondering about his life,” he adds when he sees D'Artagnan smirk.

“If you say so,” the young policeman says, turning his face toward the window. “She's my neighbor,” he declares after a moment.

“His friend is your neighbor? The one you don't stop talking about?” Athos asks, surpassing an old lady driving under the speed limit.

“Yes, that one,” D'Artagnan states. He talked about her from the first time he set foot in his new house and then he never ceased.

“You're fucked then. She's his friend and you can't talk to her or ask her for a date until the investigation is over,” Athos tells him.

“I know. But after that,” he says, pointing to the direction of the hospital, “ I don't think I'll never look at her again,” he concludes, watching outside the window again. Athos doesn't say anything more, because his only experience with a woman is with Anne and it's not a good example.

When they arrive at the deposit the officer on duty shows them the car. Athos winces in sympathy at the state of the car. Aramis is lucky to be still alive. Every side is full of scratches and bumps where the car hit the wall or what was on the street, the driver's window is broken and, under the car, there's a stain of what seems to Athos to be oil. He puts the gloves on and kneels, touching the strange substance.

“Oil,” he confirms when D'Artagnan looks at him quizzically. “But we need to see where the oil comes from,” he adds, standing up and turning toward the workshop and the mechanic.

Several minutes later the car is on the auto lift and both Athos and D'Artagnan are looking up at the tangle of tubes, cables, and steel.

“There's nothing wrong here,” the mechanic says, cleaning his hands with a rag.

“But there was oil under the car so it came from somewhere,” D'Artagnan replies, getting away from under the car.

“Maybe it is from the one there was before,” the mechanic tries again.

“There was a pool, not a stain,” Athos states, still looking at the car. He's sure Aramis said the truth. Or it was only the fact that he feels there's something in the man that convince him to believe in what he said? Maybe D'Artagnan is right and it's him who was distracted by Aramis as a man and not as a suspect. He runs his hand through his hair and he's about to get away from the car when he sees it. A little pool is forming under the driver's seat. He snatches the torch from D'Artagnan's hand and follows the trail. The oil is dripping from a huge gash on the tube near the left tire.

“This could be intentional?” he says, looking at the mechanic and pointing at the broken tube. He sees the mechanic looking at him wide-eyed and running to him.

“I missed it!” he exclaims, watching Athos and the tube. Athos gazes at him like he's waiting for an answer and the mechanic turns, inspecting the damage and then address Athos. “Yes, I suppose it could be, but I need to take it off and check it properly,” he adds.

“Take it off and then hand it to me. The forensic team will check it properly,” he says. He doesn't trust this man. He already missed the broken tube and he could miss the knife cut on it.

When the tube is safe and sound in an evidence bag the two policemen return to the station.

“So? What did Monsieur D'Herblay say?” Treville, their chief, asks. He's in front of his office door and when Athos shows him the bag, he motions to them to follow him in it.

“The accident was planned,” Athos says, still standing, while D'Artagnan has already taken the armchair in front of the desk.

“What makes you think so?”Treville asks, knowing to believe Athos' sixth sense.

“This,” he points to the bag. “And the fact that he has a baby daughter and I don't believe he would fuck up everything, risking leaving her alone,” he says. If D'Artagnan didn't say that the woman with Aramis was his neighbor, he would believe her be Monsieur D'Herblay's wife or fiancée. But after that, he suspects he's alone with the baby girl. Treville nods, recognizing that Athos has a lot more to tell but this is not the right time, and after a brief report from both he dismisses them and orders D'Artagnan to bring the evidence to the forensic. If Athos is right and Aramis didn't kill Francois Dupont and Gerard Lefevre and someone is trying to kill him, they need to analyze the evidence all over again. And the suspect could have just become a victim.

This case is more complicated than it seems.

 


	6. Chapter 6

The results from the forensic lab arrive three days later. The young lab assistant worked day and night to give them the results as soon as possible and in time with Aramis' discharge from the hospital.

Athos and D'Artagnan, in the meantime, have reanalyzed every piece of evidence they have, including digging into the past of the sick security officer and his replacement and the footage of the cameras around the building.

“Did you find something?” Treville asks that morning when he enters in the conference room Athos and D'Artagnan have claimed as their own. The young officer is curled in an armchair asleep, his jacket as a blanket. Athos is bent on the table, a lot of papers scattered in front of him.

“Yes and no," he answers, running his hand through his disheveled hair. He stands, suppressing a yawn, but scratching his beard. Treville hands him one of the two cups he brought and Athos takes it, nodding in gratitude. He sips it and makes a face. "This is not my tea," he complains.

“I thought you'd need something stronger after almost three days locked in here,” Treville replies, placing the other cup on the table and turning to wake D'Artagnan up.

“Don't. He stayed awake all night and I was only able to force him to go to sleep only two hours ago,” Athos explains, sipping the coffee and sitting again.

“And when will be your turn to fall asleep?” Treville asks, sitting on the chair next to Athos.

“When I'll have some real evidence that Aramis is not the killer,” he replies, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Aramis?” Treville asks, not sure of what Athos is talking about. Then it hits him. “Do you mean Monsieur D'Herblay?”

Athos knows he made a huge mistake but now he can't go back. “Yes, Monsieur D'Herblay,” he says, not looking at the Chief.

“Why are you referring to a suspect with his given name? I hope you aren't interested in him in a more personal way,” Treville warns him. He doesn't like how Athos took this, and if he wasn’t so short of officers, he'd take him off the case. That and the fact Athos is the best he has.

“No, Captain. But I'm more inclined to think he's a victim like the other two. And the real killer wants him to suffer,” Athos clarifies. He's still not sure why Aramis is so important and so different from the others. He'll need to think about it when the case is over, now he has work to do.

A loud knock on the door interrupts their conversation and wakes D'Artagnan.

“What?” he exclaims, sitting up with his eyes still closed.

“It's the door, D'Art. Go back to sleep,” Athos replies, nudging the young policeman to his previous position. D'Artagnan nods, curling again and going back to sleep.

“Detective De La Fere,” Clairmont, the young lab assistant, greets him. “Captain,” he adds when he sees Treville at the table. “I have the result of the broken tube,” he says, entering the room, with Athos behind him.

“And...?” he asks when Clairmont doesn't tell more.

“And there are traces of metal, steel, the test said, on the rubber. And the cut is too clear to be an incident,” he explains, showing the sheet with the lab result to Treville.

“And Brujon had checked the footage from the street cameras," he adds when the two men look each other without saying anything.

“Please, tell me there is a black car following Monsieur D'Herblay's,” Athos exhales, looking Clairmont, like he has all the answers.

“Yes, a black SUV, Japanese he said, with a stolen license plate, followed him from his house to the street where the accident happened,” he explains.

Athos and Treville groan at the fact that it has a stolen license plate, but Clairmont remembers something else and tells them. “The SUV is new so Brujon is looking for the last buyers”.

“Good, I'll check him later. Now, Athos go to bed and tell D'Artagnan to do the same. I'm planning to put some surveillance with Monsieur D'Herblay, and I want you two to be to his house when he comes back from the hospital,” Treville says.

Athos nods, waking up D'Artagnan and leaving as soon as the Captain dismisses them. He doesn't leave his companion at his empty house but he brings him to his flat. When a sleepy D'Artagnan stumbles in the elevator, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes again, Athos thinks that Charles is the first person in years that see his home. He could panic at the prospect, but he's glad that he has the possibility to start anew at least in this and the fact it's D'Artagnan, one of the fewer persons he can trust, and no one else, is reassuring.

He puts D'Artagnan in his bed while he crawls on the sofa. He has time to put the phone on vibration, throws a blanket on, and he's dead to the world.

\------------------

He wakes up at the smell of tea reaching him. He stands up, stretching and groaning at the soreness in his muscles. He's too old to sleep on the couch.

“Morning,” he grunts at D'Artagnan. He's pouring the tea in Athos’ cup, while he sips the coffee in his mug.

“I think you're too old to sleep on the couch,” he greets him. Athos looks at him, shaking his head, and drinks, not bothering to answer.

“So what's the plan?” D'Artagnan asks, putting his mug down and biting a croissant.

“I'll finish my tea in peace and silence and then we go to the station. Treville wants us as protection for Monsieur D'Herblay,” he replies, eating a biscuit.

D'Artagnan nods, standing up. He puts the cup in the sink and then leaves. He stops on the threshold, turning his head. “Thanks, for the bed,” he whispers, turning again and leaves Athos in peace.

Athos updates D'Artagnan on the way to the station, referring everything Treville and Clairmont said. When he repeats why their Captain wants them as a security detail for Aramis, D'Artagnan is somewhere between excited and worried.

“What if she'll be there all the time?” he asks when Athos looks at him.

“Of course she'll be there, D'Art. She's his friend and I think he relies on her a lot,” he explains not telling him about his suspects on the baby's mother.

“But...” D'Artagnan retort.

“No buts. You'll be there to work not to impress her, so you'll be professional. Or Treville will remove you from the case,” Athos replies. He doesn't know if he says it to convince D'Artagnan or himself. Sleeping on the couch brought more questions than answers.

\------------------

They get out from the car at the same time Aramis arrives at home. Athos notices that even if he's mostly dressed, Monsieur D'Herblay has a bruise on the neck, a black eye, and some scratches on his face, plus his right arm in a sling.

“What are you doing here, officers?” he asks when he sees the two men approaching him.

“We are here as a security detail,” Athos replies, eyeing D'Artagnan looking at Constance.

“Bodyguards? Why now I need bodyguards? Do you want to keep an eye on me?” Aramis replies, walking slowly toward the door.

“No, Monsieur D'Herblay. We found out someone sabotaged your car. We believe who killed your colleagues wants to kill you as well,” Athos explains, following Aramis.

“So you believed me,” he states.

“Yes, we believe you. But now we need to find the responsible if we want to clear your name,” Athos says. Aramis nods, relieved that the police believes him, but he is worried that the killer will try again to kill him. What if next time Emma is with him?

“We’ll protect you and your daughter if you allow us, Monsieur D’Herblay,” Athos says like he’d read Aramis’ mind.

“I know you’ll do it, but I'm still worried for her,” he replies, motioning to them to follow him inside.

“I had time to think and maybe this person wants to hit the company as well. Maybe it's something I did, or the company did, and it took time to put the plan in action. The sabotage and the fact that you didn't find any evidence on the crime scenes means that this person planned it very well, right?” he asks, trying to figure out how this whole mess happened.

“We had the same doubt. And we dug deeply. We found that the hiring company didn't receive a call for the sick security guard, so we suppose someone hacked the line and redirected the call to another one. We put one of our own to check the phone record and other cameras around the neighborhood. Maybe we find who was the replacement and who is the killer," Athos explains.

“Okay, thank you,” he replies. He starts to rub his head, closing his eyes to leave out some of the light coming from the window, and Athos, as well Constance, notices it.

“Now, if you don't mind officers, Aramis needs to rest. He's still in pain and the doctor ordered him to take it easy the first few days,” she says, smiling at them.

“And I have maybe a couple of hour before a little tornado comes crashing,” he adds, smiling thinking about his daughter.

“Of course. We'll be outside if you need us,” Athos replies, nodding and leaving the house.

\------------------

When Aramis wakes up he feels a little sore but nothing worse than the first time he woke up in the hospital. His headache is nothing unbearable and the only thing that bothers him are his ribs. He stands up, grunting at the pressure he puts on the ribs and goes to the bathroom.

When he comes out he listens for any kind of sound but there's only silence in the house. Wondering where Constance and Emma are, he goes to the living room.

Constance is not there, but Emma is sitting on the couch, watching Zootopia in silence. He smiles and, trying not to make any sound, he leaves her and goes to the kitchen. Constance is there, making supper.

“Good morning,” she exclaims when she sees Aramis.

“Morning,” he replies, smiling.

“Did you sleep well?” she asks, leaving the water to boil.

“Yes. My ribs are still troubled me and I have a little bit of headache but the rest feels fine," he explains, knowing she'll never accept "I'm fine" as explanation.

“Good. Do you feel up to eating something? I'm making pasta,” she says.

“Yes, thank you. The food in the hospital was awful,” he states. He is about to leave her and go to Emma when she speaks again. “I know you don't want her to watch a lot of cartoons, but it's the only way to keep her quiet so you could rest,” she apologizes.

“Thank you, I appreciate it. Let's keep it as an exception, okay?” he replies, winking at her and joining his daughter. He takes his laptop before sitting next to Emma and giving her a kiss on the head.

“Dada!” she exclaims, diverting her eyes from the television and looking at him.

“Hey, baby girl. What are you watching?” he asks, squeezing her on his side.

“Nick!” she replies, snuggling under his arm.

“Can I watch it with you, while auntie Constance makes food?” he asks, not expecting a reply from a two years old girl.

“Okay,” she answers instead. She turns back to her cartoon while Aramis laughs.

He opens his laptop with some difficulties and opens the folder of the company he has on the computer. He searches every file he has, evaluation, personal files about the employees, accounting and everything he needs to find why someone is trying to kill him. He believes the police has everything under control and they trying to find some evidence that he's not guilty, but he has faith he'll be able to find some proof all by himself.

If the killer targets he and his company he'll find it whatever it will cost.

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Call him,” Constance says after dinner a week later. Emma is asleep and she and Aramis are in the living room, drinking hot chocolate and watching a movie.

“I don't know what you are talking about,” Aramis answers, sipping his chocolate and not diverting his eyes from the television.

“The cop. Detective De La Fere,” she replies, placing her mug on the little table in front of her.

Aramis doesn't respond, watching the scene playing on the tv.

Constance stops the movie and turns to him. “I'm serious, Aramis. Call him. And don't try to tell me you're not interested in him because I don't believe you,” she says.

“He's the detective appointed to my case. He can't date a suspect,” he replies, looking at her.

“You're not a suspect anymore,” she states, serious.

“I know but I'm still related to the case so... no,” he replies. He wants to but Isabelle's memory is still fresh and he's not sure about his feelings toward the hot policeman. He likes him but there's something that stops him from taking another step. And it's not because of his case.

“Okay, but call him anyway, and tell him what you discovered. If you wait any longer it will become difficult to do it,” she tells him.

He nods, letting her know that he'll think about it and takes another sip from the cup.

“What about D'Artagnan?” he asks, after another sip.

“What about him, what?” she asks, folding her legs under her, making herself more comfortable.

“Did you talk with him outside my home?” he asks. If she wants to know about him and Athos, he deserves to know about her and D'Artagnan.

“Ehm... no?” she says, blushing a little bit.

“But you like him and he likes you, so you could try to talk to him,” he answers, smiling.

“After that gaffe at the hospital? And I suspect he thinks I'm your girlfriend,” she explains.

He laughs at her and when she looks at him like she'd want to slap him, he stops, grinning.

“Oh, believe me when I say that he doesn't think you are with me. And don't tell me you didn't see how he watches you,” he says, still grinning.

She opens and closes her mouth, not knowing what to say because she didn't see what Aramis is saying. He smiles at Constance's face and, after he's sure she won't talk about D'Artagnan or Athos anymore, he turns again toward the television, resuming the movie.

\------------------

It's only two days later that Aramis decides to call Athos. He thought about the conversation during those days but when the detective picks up, he feels his mouth dry and all the good intentions are flying out of the window.

“Hello?” Athos says.

“It's Aramis,” he replies.

“Monsieur D'Herblay, is something wrong?” he asks, worried.

“No, no, we're good. But I’m calling to thank you for the work you did and you're doing, and ask if you'd like to meet for a drink,” Aramis explains. He knows it sound like a date but it's the only way he can talk with Athos.

“I don't think it's a good idea Monsieur D'Herblay,” Athos replies.

“I know it sounds like a date but it isn't. And if I stay another day shut in here I'll go mad,” he says. They are poor excuses but he tries everything.

“Monsieur D'Herblay, are you really...?” Athos tries to reply.

“Really,” Aramis only says. He can hear Athos' breath from his phone and he takes it as a “maybe.”

“And I have some information that I think is useful for the case,” he adds when the silence becomes unbearable.

“What information?” Athos replies immediately.

“Meet me and I'll tell you everything,” Aramis states hopeful.

“Okay. Tomorrow afternoon. I'll pick you up and bring you back home,” Athos says, sounding like an order to Aramis' ears.

“Deal,” Aramis accepts. They say their goodbyes and then he hangs up. He collects all the things he discovered during his personal investigation and he puts everything in a folder, away from prying eyes. A “Daddy,” resounds in the house, informing him that Emma is awake. Aramis smiles, going to his daughter.

\------------------

Athos hangs up and exhales loudly.

  
“What's wrong?” D’Artagnan asks from the desk in front of him.

  
“Aramis asked me to a date,” he replies, knowing it’s impossible to hide something from D’Artagnan for a long time.

  
“It's good, isn’t it?” his young colleague states.

  
“Yes, if I wasn't the officer appointed to his case. But I am so it's a mess,” he answers, running his fingers through his hair.

“And it’s a mess because you are interested in him?” D’Artagnan replies.

  
Athos glares at him. He doesn't want to answer but the other man has a point. He accepted because he wanted to meet with Aramis, especially outside of his house and the police station. From the moment he met him, Athos felt something he didn't feel in a long time. But even if Aramis is not a suspect anymore he's still in the case and he can't date someone involved in it. He groans loudly, cursing under his breath and not looking at D'Artagnan he stands up, going to Treville's office.

“Come,” the Captains says, answering at the knock on the door.

“I'm sorry to interrupt you, but Monsieur D'Herblay just called," Athos explains, sitting in one of the chairs in front of the desk.

“And...?” Treville prompts, looking at him.

“He said he has information that he wants to share with us,” he adds. He doesn't say what Aramis asks in exchange.

“Tell him to come here and talk with me,” Treville replies.

“He wants to share it with me,” Athos states, knowing that Treville will be angry about it.

“Athos, I already told you that you can't get involved with him. And you just disobeyed me,” the Captain tells him, as Athos has expected, angry.

“I'm not involved with him and you gave me this case so if he has some important information about the real killer I need to do everything in my power to find them. Even go alone and talk with him,” Athos replies, standing up from the chair.

“Very well. But if I find that there's something between you two, I remove from the case and send you away. Is that clear?” Treville declares, glaring at Athos.

“Crystal,” Athos replies. He nods and leaves the office, taking his things from his desk before leaving the station. He needs some time alone to think and now it's the right time.

\------------------

When the doorbell rings Aramis runs to answer. He changed his sweatpants and his hoodie with a pair of jeans and a shirt, trying to tame his wild curls. A mission impossible at the end because he ran his fingers through his hair a lot in the last ten minutes. He knows it's not a date but it's a lot from the last time he went out with somebody.

He takes a deep breath before opening the door, a nervous smile on his face.

“Monsieur D'Herblay,” Athos says, when the door opens.

“Detective De La Fere,” Aramis replies, inviting the officer inside.

Athos seems a little bit tense and Aramis is relieved that he's not the only one.

“I need to get something and then we can go,” he says, grabbing the folder he hid.

“Your daughter?” Athos asks, the silence too much to handle.

“With Constance. Speaking of Constance, we need to be back before six pm because she is busy tonight,” Aramis replies, showing the folder and taking the keys. “We can go,” he adds, standing next to the door. Athos nods in reply and follows Aramis outside.

Once sitting inside of the little cafe Aramis loves, he orders a cappuccino while Athos opts for a cup of tea.

“Tea? Really? I don't think I ever heard of a cop drinking tea,” Aramis declares, when the waitress leaves with their order.

“Well, now you heard it,” Athos replies. He eyes at the folder in the chair next to Aramis once more, but he can't demand to see it if Aramis is not ready to share the information.

“Let's enjoy our drink and then I'll show you what I found,” Aramis says, following Athos' gaze.

“Okay," he agrees. His phone buzzes when he opens his mouth to start a conversation. "I'm sorry, I need to answer," he apologizes. He picks up while he stands up and leaves the table.

When he returns Aramis notices that something is different.

“What happened?” he asks as soon as Athos is sat.

“They found another body,” the detective replies, pouring some milk in the tea.

“What? Who?” Aramis questions. He can't believe another person he knows is dead.

“D'Artagnan said he was an accountant. But it's all I know for now,” Athos explains. He didn't plan to talk about work, except for the information Aramis has, so he doesn't want to pass the next few minutes explaining what his partner said. So he sips his tea and satisfied he turns toward Aramis. “Let's enjoy our drinks and then, we can talk about business, okay?” he says, smiling.

“Okay," Aramis replies, smiling too. He'd like to know who is this accountant and what Athos' younger colleague discovered but he also wants to know more about Athos and maybe this is his only chance so he'll try to make it works.

“You didn’t ask me out only for the information, right?” Athos asks after some minute in silence.

“Let's say that someone bothered me to call you outside the case,” Aramis mutters, his nose in the cup.

“Your friend?” he asks when Aramis doesn't add anything.

“Yes. She has this insane thought that it's her mission to find me somebody.  As I don't have already my daughter to take care of,” he explains, not looking Athos in the eyes.

“Maybe she means somebody who you could fall in love with,” the detective says, putting down the cup of tea he is sipping.

“Yes, but I gave up on that a long time ago, so her efforts are useless,” Aramis whispers. He doesn't want to think about her right now but Athos seems really interested in his love life so he needs to divert the conversation to Athos’ one. He tries to open his mouth but Athos speaks again.

“Maybe a part of you thinks that, but if you don't believe in finding someone to love you wouldn't be here with me”.

“Maybe you’re right, or maybe I just want to talk with someone who is outside my circle of friends,” Aramis states, biting a biscuit the waitress brought with their drinks.

“Maybe, but you are here with me, drinking and talking about everything but the case so think what you want but it's a date to me,” Athos says, a smile appearing on his lips when he bites his butter biscuit.

Aramis smiles too, and after a sip of his cappuccino, he speaks again.  “What about you?”

“Me?” Athos replies, taken aback by the question.

“Yes, you. What about your love life?” he asks.

“I don't think it's a good idea,”Athos answers. He thought that maybe Aramis would want to know about him but talking about his life is still a painful thing to do.

“So I have to talk about it but you're not allowed to? Listen, I have ghosts and demons and I work in an office, so I presume you have ghosts and demons too. I don't know if they are related to your job but you have them so… You said this is a date, and dates are meant to know each other, especially love life. So split it out," Aramis explains.

“My love life is nearly nonexistent so there isn't much to talk about," he replies. He sips his tea and then continues. "I had a girlfriend, we were supposed to marry but she left me at the altar. She said that she knew that she wasn't what I really wanted so before we ended our marriage with broken dishes and broken hearts she decided for both of us."

“Oh… I'm so sorry. I didn't know,” Aramis replies, not imagining something like that.

“Don’t worry. We met some years later and we are now good friends. Even if we don't see each other much,” he explains. He doesn't add what happened between the marriage and the day he met her again. He’s still working on it.

“That's good. Or at least I think it's good,” Aramis says when the silence becomes unbearable. Athos doesn't reply, drinking instead his almost cold tea, finishing it.

“So this information you have,” he says, putting down the cup.

Aramis looks at him like he grew up another head in the meantime, recovering immediately and handing him the folder with what he found. He drinks his cappuccino while Athos examines the papers.

When Athos puts everything inside the folder Aramis watches him carefully before saying what he wants to say for two days now. “I think I know who the killer is.”

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“I beg you pardon?” Athos exclaims, looking at Aramis.

“Yes, I think I know who the killer is,” he repeats, serious.

“I thought that was my job, not yours,” Athos replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know, but I thought I could have better luck, especially if I had to investigate in the company records,” he says, looking satisfied with himself.

Athos looks at him and, after reflecting about it, he nods, taking one of the biscuits still on the table. “Okay, go on.”

“In the folder, there is all of the evidence I found. Small amounts of money disappeared, or increased costs in the company. If you are too distracted or you're not looking for it, you'll never find all those incongruities,” he explains, opening the folder and pointing at the various amounts of money missing or in excess.

“So are you telling me that you found the motive?” Athos asks, moving close to him to look at the sheets in the folder.

“Yes, Dupont called me because he needed to show me something. I think he knew about this and he wanted someone else to know. Someone he could trust,” Aramis says. If only he'd pressed Dupont more, or he'd arrived in the office earlier.

“Stop it, I know you now blame yourself for what happened but this person was, and is, on a quest to get rid of every person that knows about his plan,” Athos tells him, seeing the anguished look on Aramis' face.

“I know, but...” he tries to say.

“No buts. This person is a monster, not you. He doesn't have a conscience, and it knows that you will struggle about all of this, believe me,” Athos replies. Aramis nods and when the Detective motions him to move on, he smiles, resuming explaining what he found.

“These little things happened when I became CEO and Louis took the company from his father. He made some changes in the staff, refreshing the company from all those old fogies, like he said. He put me at the head of all of the new associates, knowing that I'll be the better choice. Anyway, the associates changed sometimes, for disagreements or better job opportunity, so we had some of them leaving in the first two years, and new people coming. There was this man, one of the first new associates when Louis took the company, he was strange, he was always alone, always looking at the others like he wanted them away or worse. He stayed in the office for the same time as these differences happened so I think it's him,” he says.

Athos looks at him for some time before to speak again. “Okay, but are you sure it's this man you're talking about? Maybe there are some other people that work in your company during the same time,” he says, skeptical.

“Yes but no one left the same day he left and the incongruities stopped,” he replies, sure of what he's saying.

“Okay, let's take this lead. What is his name?” Athos asks, hoping Aramis will tell him everything and this case will be over soon.

“That's the problem. I don't remember it. I know that some fictional character is involved, because some colleagues used to joke about it, but I don't remember it. I'm sorry,” he says, looking his hands folded on the table.

“This was so good to be true. Anyway, Monsieur Bourbon should have a list of all the people who works and worked for him, right?” he asks, still hoping to have more leads.

“Yes, of course, but I don't know if it's useful. I already looked in it and I didn't find anything that could ring a bell,” he replies, defeated.

“Okay, don't worry. This is a start and D'Artagnan and I can take from this point on. Maybe you don't remember but someone else does, so don't worry. Okay?” Athos replies, trying to cheer Aramis up. He worked so much to find something that could clear his own name and Athos won't be the one who will destroy his hopes. Aramis nods, sipping his cup and remembering too late that he finished his cappuccino moments ago so puts down the cup and smiles at Athos.

The Detective tries to change subject, asking Aramis how he end up working for Louis and about his friends and family.

He then asks about one of the topics he's thinking about from the moment he discovered it.

“And you have a daughter,” he says, the sentence sounding like a question.

“Yes, Emma,” Aramis replies, not adding anything more.

“When you mentioned her the first time I came to your house I thought you were referring to your wife or fiancée,” he explains, smiling at the memory of this little girl clung to him. “D’Art even thought Constance was her mother,” he adds, not noticing Aramis turning pale. “But of course our suspicions were wrong on both sides,” Athos goes on. He then looks at Aramis and finally he notices that something is wrong with him.

“Are you okay?” he asks, grabbing Aramis hand and squeezing it.

“No,” the other replies after a moment. “Constance is not her mother even if sometimes she acts like it. It's complicated and painful so please don't ask more,” Aramis tells him. He doesn't want to talk about it.

“This is one of the ghosts and demons you talked about earlier?” Athos asks, his hand still squeezing Aramis’.

“Yes,” he answers, not looking at him. After another squeeze he lifts his head, watching Athos in his eyes. Something in them tells him to trust Athos and after a deep breath, he starts to tell him a story he didn't want to remember until now.

“I met Isabelle some years ago. I saw her every morning on the train, usually, we sat on the same wagon, smiling in greeting and looking at each other. We never talked. We did that for almost six months when Louis invited me to his home. He and Anna were to be married and Louis wanted me as his best man. Anna told me that she already picked up her maid of honor, a friend of her that would plan the wedding too. When the door rang several minutes later I opened the door and Isabelle was there. We started dating a week later. We always talked about marriage but we never had time, with my new job as CEO and her job as a wedding planner. We went to live together three years ago. And then Emma arrived. At that time we started again to talk about making everything official but again work stopped us. At the beginning of last year, she had her biggest occasion. Some kind of nobility wanted her to organize the wedding between two of their heirs and of course she accepted. The wedding took place in Savoy, and she had to leave a week before for the last things. I stayed home with Emma. I still think that if I went with her maybe the outcome would be different. She called me when she left the place, promising that she would be home that evening if the weather allowed her. The police said that the road was frozen and the falling snow was so thick that she would never seen the curve. Even they found the car only after several hours of searching because there was so much snow and so little visibility,” Aramis tells him. He takes a deep breath, not looking at Athos and trying to calm himself and not crying his eyes out. He doesn't know how to go on with the story, and if he's able to do so, so he closes his eyes, breath deeply, trying to regain some composure. He doesn't see but feels Athos hands squeezing his in a reassuring way, leaving the silence and the warmth wash over him.

Athos leaves Aramis to mourn again. He can't imagine the pain the other is feeling right now and in the past year. From having everything to losing so much. He passed a few bad years himself from the break with Anne, to his father illness, to Thomas leaving everything and going to Africa. And then there's the mission in which he lost his partner. He sighs, leaving his own problems aside and motioning to a waitress to bring two teas this time, waiting for Aramis to open his eyes and to look at him. When his order arrives he slips one cup in Aramis hands, bringing it to his lips.

“Drink,” he orders. Aramis nods, sipping the hot tea. He takes a sip too, thinking how to proceed after Aramis' revelation but he doesn't have the opportunity.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to make this date a therapy session. I was going so well and then this whole mess hit me and I didn't know what to do. Anyway, now you know everything about me,” Aramis states, sipping his tea, a little smile on his face.

“Don't be. I pushed you to reveal your story and I didn't think about the consequences,” Athos replies, squeezing again one of Aramis' hand.

“Don't worry, I need to do it sometimes. I started to lock what happened away and it's not good for me,” Aramis stops him, revealing another thing about him.

Athos opens his mouth to say something when Aramis' phone rings, putting the conversation to a halt.

Athos sees Aramis' face change in the moment he picks up, from the complete despair to an utter happiness. He tries to not listen to the phone call, checking his own phone for some lost call or message. There's one from D'Artagnan saying that he'll leave the office in half an hour and he won't be reachable for the rest of the night. And to call him only if the city takes fire. Athos smiles, because he knows exactly where, or better with who, his partner will be tonight. He wonders if his date knows it too or his friend kept him in the dark. He puts his phone away after he sends a quick reply to D'Artagnan and looks once again Aramis.

“Okay, don't worry. I'll be there in time. Now I have to go. Bye,” Aramis says into the phone. He turns toward Athos, a wider smile on his face. “It was Emma. She is determined to talk to the phone, calling the first number she sees on the screen,” he justifies.

“I think it's the period where she discovers the world around her,” Athos replies, smiling too.

“Yes, she's a rascal. Anyway, I need to go home. She needs me and I think you have to go,” Aramis says, finishing his tea and standing. When he takes out his wallet, Athos stops him.

“Let me,” he says when Aramis looks at him confused.

“I invited you, so I'll pay,” Aramis responds.

“Yes, you invited me, but I'll pay. You'll do that next time,” Athos states, paying the waitress that approaches their table. Aramis tries to protest but he shuts him with a little peck on the lips, startling both of them. Athos doesn't know what possessed him to do that, it doesn't sound like him and he's trying to say that, when Aramis deepening the peck, transforming it in a kiss. When they pull apart, Aramis is grinning like an idiot and Athos is speechless.

“Sorry, but I couldn't resist,” Aramis whispers, still grinning. Athos, his face bright red, looks at him for what feel like hours and then, when Aramis starts laughing, he recovers and grins at him.

“Let's bring you home before we never leave this cafè,” he says, still grinning, putting his arm around Aramis shoulders and leading him outside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish you all a Merry Christmas!


	9. Chapter 9

Walking on the busy street is a good way to regain some composure. They walk side by side, their shoulders brushing together, a little smile on their faces. They walk in silence for a while then Aramis opens his mouth.

“Thank you,” he whispers, looking ahead.

“You're welcome. Even if I don't know why you're thanking me,” Athos replies, stealing a glance at him.

“For the drinks... and the other thing,” Aramis whispers again. He doesn't know why he's still careful about that.

“It was my pleasure, especially the last thing,” Athos says, smiling.

“Now I need to return the favor,” Aramis states, brushing his hand with the Detective's.

“I think it's a good idea. This time don't bring folders with you,” he says, eyeing the one Aramis is clutching.

“Okay, this time no excuses,” the other replies, smiling.

“I'll tell you when I have a night off,” Athos declares, catching Aramis' hand in his and squeezes it.

“Okay, so I can arrange for a babysitter for Emma. And reserve a table in one of my favorite restaurant,” Aramis states, looking for a reaction from Athos.

“Emma can come with us if Constance is busy, and I hope your favorite restaurant is not one of the poshy ones scattered in the city,” Athos replies. He really doesn't care about the restaurant and even if he's not so comfortable with kids in general, he knows that if he agrees to date Aramis, he agrees to the full package. And Emma is an important part of the full package. He knows his answer is the right one when Aramis looks at him, blushing lightly, nodding and squeezing his hand back.

They are almost at the crossroads when a bike slows down and Athos catches something the biker pulls out from his jacket. Athos has only time to push Aramis away before he hears the shot.

“What?” Aramis exclaims when he finds himself on the ground with Athos above him.

“Someone was trying to kill you… again,” he says, looking at the man sprawled on the pavement.

He stands up, bringing Aramis with him. He gives him a quick look. “Are you okay? Are you hurt somewhere?” he asks.

“No I'm good, thanks to you,” Aramis replies, a bit embarrassed from the glances he receives from the people.

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” Athos says before starts to run after the bike.

They are in one of the bustling parts of the city, so Athos doesn't have problem catching up with the biker who is zigzagging between the cars.

When he's almost near the vehicle, the man finds a gap between a bus and the pavement and he speeds up. Athos swears loudly, hastening his pace and removing his gun from the holster.

But the bike has passed the crowd and it's leaving the road and Athos behind. The detective does the only thing he can think of, he aims at the rear tire and shoots.

The bike swerves dangerously and its driver tries everything to keep it straight, in vain. The vehicle catches a hole and it rears up violently, throwing the biker on the ground.

The man doesn't have time to stand because Athos is above him, pointing his gun at him.

“Don't move,” he warns him, moving the biker's gun away from them with a kick. The man raises his hand in surrender and Athos performs the arrest.

“The city is on fire?” D'Artagnan asks when he picks up his phone.

“No, but someone tried to kill Aramis. Again,” Athos replies. He left the biker with some agents on patrol and he's returning to Aramis.

“Shit!” D'Artagnan exclaims.

“Exactly,” Athos says, before adding, “I think you need to cancel the date with Constance tonight.”

“How do you know?” Charles asks amazed. “Never mind. You know that I have a crush on her from when I moved here,” he says, not waiting for an answer.

“Anyway, I need you here as soon as possible,” Athos tells him, finally reaching Aramis.

“But I just got home,” he whines.

“D'Artagnan, it's an order,” Athos commands on the phone.

“Okay. Give me fifteen minutes,” Charles replies.

“I'll see you in ten,” the Detective replies, closing the call right away. He looks up at Aramis and smiles.

“Did you get him?” he asks, smiling too.

“Aramis, please,” Athos answers, grinning.

“I called Constance, telling her that she needs to stay with Emma a little bit more,” he says. He didn't add more because he really doesn't know if he can tell about everything is happening today.

“Okay, because I'll bring that bastard at the station and I want you there in case he says something relevant about the case,” Athos explains.

“Like his name,” Aramis adds.

“Like his name, yes,” Athos confirms. He doesn't know how to approach this moment, as a cop or as a friend. And something in between is not an option. So he decides to be the cop. “You'll need to make a statement about everything that happened today to D'Artagnan, so he'll do a report to the Captain,” he says, typing something on the phone.

“But you were here all the time, you know how it went,” Aramis protests.

“Yes, but I am a witness too and they'll need both our statements. It's not so awful, believe me,” he says, softening his voice on the last sentence. The detective's mode isn't working well right now.

He's saved from other explanations by D'Artagnan arrival.

“I've broken several rules to be here on time, so it's better you have something to work with or I will leave,” D'Artagnan exclaims when he stops beside them.

“What about the man who tried to kill Aramis?” Athos asks, spotting the officers with whom he left the biker, behind his partner.

“I'd said you're forgiven,” D'Artagnan replies, turning and seeing them too. “So I'll talk to him,” he adds, smirking and looking from Athos to Aramis.

“No, I'll talk to him and you will take Aramis' declaration,” Athos states, not waiting for an answer and walking toward the biker.

D'Artagnan sighs, and taking his notebook, he starts asking questions of Aramis.

“Who are you?” Athos asks when he's face to face with the man.

“I won't tell you,” the man replies.

“Yes, you tell me here and now or, once the agents bring you to the station I won't be so kind,” Athos threatens, snapping his fingers in a menacing manner.

“Okay, okay, but I want to make a deal,” he pleas.

“Let's hear what you have to say and then I'll think about it,” Athos replies, smirking at the ease with which he just made the man talk. The other stays quiet for a bit, evaluating his possibilities and then, nodding, he opens his mouth.

“My name is George Marcheaux and I was paid to kill Monsieur D'Herblay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!!!


	10. Chapter 10

“Tell me about what you said to Detective La Fere,” Treville asks Marcheaux. He's sitting comfortably in a chair in the interrogation room at the station, his legs stretched and crossed at the ankles under the table and a cup of coffee in front of him.

“I was paid to kill him,” he replies, looking disgusted toward the Captain. When Treville stays silent waiting for him to go on, Marcheaux adds, “and to sabotage his car.”

“Who paid you?” the Captain asks.

“I can't reveal his name. He'll kill me if I tell you,” the man says, trembling in fear.

“If you don't tell me who he is what he has in store for you will be heaven in comparison with what I'll do,” Treville threatens him.

“You can't do anything,” Marcheaux replies.

“True, but where I send you they won't be so understanding, especially if I'll add the murder of Messieurs Dupont, Lefevre and Piquet, the accountant, to the attempted murder of Monsieur D'Herblay,” he says lightly. “And you'll have four life sentences to serve. You'll spend the next one hundred years rotting in prison, give or take,” he adds after a moment.

“I'm not involved in the murders,” he admits, scared.

“Are you sure? Because if you are involved instead, there's the false testimony to add to the other charges,” Treville says, trying to frighten him more.

“I swear! I don't even know who the other people are!” he shouts, red in the face and trembling from rage.

“Okay. Let's suppose that I believe you. Who would be the murderer? This mysterious man whose name you can't say? It is convenient for you, right? Accusing a man whose identity nobody knows, so you can escape from the charge of multiple murder,” Treville explains.

“It's the truth. It's certainly him behind all the murders,” the man states.

“So give me his name and where to find him,” Treville prompts.

“And what do I have in exchange?” Marcheaux asks now.

“It depends on what you'll give me,” the Captain retorts.

Marcheaux is about to speak when someone knocks on the door. The Captain rolls his eyes before standing up and opening the door.

“What?” he asks bothered.

“Athos has a plan,” D'Artagnan explains simply.

“I hope it's an excellent plan, because if it isn't, I lost the possibility to let him talk,” Treville says, exiting from the room and entering into the next one. Athos is in front of the glass, studying Marcheaux’s every move, while Aramis is sitting at the little table in the corner, a cup of tea tights in his hands.

“What he's doing here?” the Captain asks when he notices Aramis.

“The same as us. He wants to know who framed him,” the Detective explains, giving a brief glance at Aramis and turning again toward the man sitting uncomfortably at the table in the interrogation room.

Treville glares at his lieutenant, before sighing and talking. “So, what's this plan?”

“And if we use him to drive the murderer out and catch him?” Athos asks.

“As bait? And how we convince him?” Treville inquires.

“A reduced sentence. And if this man threatens him we'll offer him protection. Maybe a solitary prison cell. Or we'll send him to isolation. Which is better for his crime,” he replies harshly. It's been hours since the second attempted murder and he can't shrug off the sense of distress in which he is at the thought of Aramis dead. He feels helpless and he'd want only bring him home and keep him safe and sound.

Treville looks at him for a moment, deciding what is the best course of action with his Detective. Something has happened before the arrest of Marcheaux and he wants to know what. But he knows too that it's not the right time and the right place so he decides to focus on the case.

“I think it's a good plan. Not excellent as I hoped, but good. Let's see if he accepts, and then we elaborate it in its every single, tiny detail,” he says. “As soon as he accepts, you'll bring Monsieur D'Herblay home, and you'll follow closely behind,” he warns him. On the threshold, he turns one more time. “You too, boy,” he orders to D'Artagnan. He then goes back to Marcheaux.

“So what you propose?” the man asks, as soon as Treville is seated in his previous place.

  
\------------------

“Is he dead?” he asks, opening the door of the warehouse where he meets his connections.

“Ehm, no,” Marcheaux replies.

“What? Why?” he shouts.

“There was a cop with him,” Marcheaux explains. “I couldn't shoot the target with that man beside him,” he adds in defense.

“You're good for nothing! I paid you handsomely for what? To see that bastard still alive? It's the second time you fail and there won't be the third,” he threatens him. Marcheaux doesn't notice the gun until it's pointed between his eyes.

“Please, don't do it. I swear I'll complete the task before tomorrow. Please, give me at least another day,” he pleads, scared for his life. They promised him that everything would be okay, but now he doesn't seem so sure. Either they intervene or the man will kill him.

“You have until tomorrow morning. If you don't get rid of him before morning, I'll do it myself. And the police will find another body in addition to D'Herblay's,” he intimidates him. He puts the gun away, turning and leaving a trembling and gasping Marcheaux alone.

Athos and D'Artagnan arrive as soon as the Captain gives them the order. They find Marcheaux slumped on the floor, eyes closed and gasping for air.

“Are you okay?” D'Artagnan asks, kneeling in front of him.

“He wanted to kill me!” the man shouts, grabbing the officer's bulletproof vest.

“Athos, I don't think he's okay,” Charles states, looking at Athos.

The detective rolls his eyes, leaving D'Artagnan to deal with a hysterical Marcheaux while he gives orders to the team to search the place.

“Athos?” Treville calls him from the ear bud.

“Yes, Captain,” he replies, opening the door to which their target had disappeared.

“Monsieur D'Herblay wants to speak with you,” Treville states.

“Athos, I recognized the voice. I might know who he is,” Aramis says.

“Are you sure?” he asks, stopping just outside the door.

“Yes, I still don't remember the name but if I see him I will know his face,” Aramis explains.

“Okay, it's good. Now the last thing we need to know for sure is why he's so angry with you, and why he killed the others,” Athos replies, returning to D'Artagnan.

“That's would be our job,” the young detective states, standing up.

“Yes. But not now. Your job is done for tonight, gentlemen,” Treville interrupts. “Monsieur D'Herblay has given his identikit to our portraitist, so now the job goes to the analysts that will try to give a name to the face.”

“So what now, Captain?” D'Artagnan asks, stifling a yawn.

“Now you go home and sleep. I don't want to see you until tomorrow morning. Marcheaux is in our custody so he won't try to kill Monsieur D'Herblay. We want this man to expose himself so until tomorrow morning you're free,” Treville explains.

D'Artagnan nods even if the Captain doesn't see him, and yawning openly. Athos sighs and after answering to Treville, he grabs D'Artagnan for the collar of his vest and brings him out if the warehouse.

\------------------

“Are you sure you don't want to stay here?” Aramis asks on the threshold of his home.

“No, thank you. Treville was right and I really need a full night of sleep. You still have a patrol outside and you'll be well guarded until tomorrow,” Athos replies. After the adrenaline runs off he feels tired and sore. And his left shoulder hurts. A lot.

Aramis nods, inserting the key into the lock. “At least come inside a moment,” he whispers.

“Okay, but no coffee and no tea, please,” he replies, smirking.

Aramis grins, and after nodding again he leads Athos inside.

Constance is at the table, sipping a cup of tea, while she works. She notices Aramis and she stands up.

“Finally! Charlie said you were on your way, but I needed to see it for myself,” she exclaims.

Athos raises an eyebrow at the mention of his partner's nickname, but says nothing. Aramis doesn't seem to notice it.

“I'm fine, don't worry. Athos took care of me,” he replies, giving her a hug.

“Thank God! I was so worried!” she whispers into his neck.

“Now you can go to sleep,” he whispers back. He doesn't ask about Emma because Constance sent him a lot of messages, describing what his daughter did during his absence, so he knows that she's sleeping.

Constance thanks Athos for what he did, and taking her work and her mug, she leaves them alone.

“Now I think I must go,” Athos whispers, not knowing what to say.

“Okay,” Aramis replies. They both are looking at their shoes, nervously, the silence fills the space between them.

“Goodnight,” Athos whispers, turning toward the door.

“Wait,” Aramis exclaims, stopping him with a hand on his arm. He grips the fabric of the jacket under his fingers, dragging Athos to him.

“Thank you. For what you did,” he whispers, close to Athos face.

“It was my duty,” the Detective whispers back.

“If you say so,” Aramis purrs, before leaning against Athos, kissing him deeply.

Athos, after a moment of embarrassment, still not used to this development, kisses him back. He slips his fingers through Aramis hair, pulling it and drawing a moan in reply.

Aramis grabs him, digging his nail in Athos shoulders. Athos gasps, ending the kiss abruptly.

“Athos, what's wrong?” Aramis asks, worried, watching Athos grabbing his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he replies, gritting his teeth. It seems on fire, but he can't say that it's all Aramis fault.

“Are you sure? Where are you hurt?” Aramis asks. He tries to touch Athos but the Detective pulls back. He is in pain and the mere thought of someone touching him is enough to groan from the pain.

“Sit down and let me check on you,” Aramis orders, hiding the hurt in his eyes at the motion.

Athos sits, removing his hand and trying to pull off his shirt. He succeeds after a couple attempts, groaning and hissing a lot.

Aramis get close, touching where he knows Athos doesn't feel the pain.

“I think you strained a muscle because you don't have even a bruise. You need to put ice on it, takes some painkillers, and maybe go to the doctor as soon as possible,” he says, examining the shoulder.

“How do you know that?” Athos asks, when Aramis stops touching him and he can breath again.

“I work in a pharmaceutical firm. And I studied medicine. I'd need only the final exam and then I could be a proper doctor,” he replies, taking the ice from the freezer.

“I didn't know you studied it,” he says.

“Well, now you know. Take this and I'll let you go as soon as it takes effect,” he orders, giving him the painkiller he takes for his broken wrist and the ice.

Athos swallow it with some water and then puts the ice on his painful shoulder. “You need to tell me why you didn't become a doctor,” he prompts after a moment.

“That is a story for another day. Maybe I'll tell you on our first date,” Aramis hints, smirking.

“I'll take your word for it,” Athos replies, moving closer to him, stealing a kiss.

 


	11. Chapter 11

The next morning Aramis creeps in the kitchen, trying not to wake Constance and Emma. He turns on the coffee machine and while he waits for it to heat up he opens the fridge. He takes out the ingredients to make pancakes and he gets to work.

Cooking is another thing that relaxes him. And it gives him time to think. He told the portraitist about the killer but it could takes days for the facial recognition to put a name to the face and he doesn't have days. The killer told Marcheaux that he wants him dead today or he takes the matter in hand.

He needs to find who this man is before he finds him. Pouring the dough in the pan he makes a decision: he’ll find the name before the killer finds him.

He is so immersed in his thought that he doesn’t hear the bell.

“I found this poor soul outside in the cold,” a voice booms in the quiet kitchen.

“Porthos! What are you doing here?” Aramis replies as soon as he see his friend standing next to the table with Athos at his side.

“Captain Treville called me last night and told me what happened. Are you okay?” he asks, approaching him.

“Yes, thanks to Athos,” he says, smiling at the Detective.

“So it’s only good fortune if you two were together yesterday,” the lawyer replies, smirking at the looks the other two men are sharing.

“Let’s call it fortune, yes” Athos says, stepping in the conversation for the first time.

“Anyway, I smell something good,” Porthos states, knowing that the two of them won’t talk about what really happened.

“I’m making pancakes,” Aramis exclaims.

“Good, because I’m starving,” Porthos replies, grabbing the maple syrup and putting it on the table.

“Porthos, you are always starving,” Aramis states, smiling.

Porthos mutters something but Aramis doesn’t hear it because Emma is screaming from her room. Aramis is about to go, but he hears Constance saying something to the baby and he continues to make breakfast.

Some minutes later she and Constance arrive in the kitchen and the girl throws herself into his father’s arms. Athos and Porthos smile, seeing the two of them together. Aramis makes a bottle of milk and biscuits still with the little girl in his arms,  while the others sit down at the table, ready to eat.

“So, any update?” he asks Athos, giving the bottle to Emma.

“Marcheaux is still in custody and there isn’t news from the facial recognition,” the Detective replies, putting a pancake in his dish.

“Okay, but I need to go to the office. Maybe I find something there,” he explains, sitting down with his daughter on his lap.

“What? No!” Porthos exclaims, looking worried.

A chorus of “What?” comes from the other two grown people in the room and Aramis looks at them surprised.

“If there is information about this man, I think Louis has it in the office, so I’ll go and find it. I won’t stay put, waiting for him to come for me again, worrying that this time he succeeds in his intent,” he says simply.

“Yes, so he can find you easier. No way, Aramis. No way,” Porthos replies, forgetting his breakfast and staring at him.

“Porthos, he’s already out there looking for me. The facial recognition might take days to put a name to the face and I don’t have days. Marcheaux failed and he’s coming for me today. He’s a step ahead of me. It’s time I be a step ahead of him. I’ll go to the office and I’ll try to find his name, end of the discussion,” he explains, trying to not raise his voice to not upset Emma.

“Let me call D’Art and we’ll come with you. I’m not leaving you alone,” Athos states, this time putting an end to the conversation.

Aramis nods and starts eating.

\------------------

Louis is waiting for him when he steps out of the elevator.

“It’s good to see you,” Louis says, hugging him tightly in front of the whole staff, and leading him to his office. Athos and D’Artagnan follow them, looking properly around for the first time after the Dupont’s murder.  They both check Aramis’ office before allowing the other two to step inside.

“We’re waiting here,” Athos whispers to Aramis who nods before closing the door. The people in the office looks at them strangely but the two officers try to become invisible. They don’t have pistols in sight, like their badge, but they stand still and straight, too much in D’Artagnan’s case, in front of the closed door.

“They are staring at us,” D’Artagnan whispers, barely moving his mouth.

“Of course they are. We brought here who they think is the killer of their colleagues and we standing like soldiers on parade outside the door of the alleged killer while he talks with their boss. You’ll be suspicious too,” Athos replies, not moving at all his mouth, like a ventriloquist.

D’Artagnan turns to look at him, opening his mouth to reply when the door at their back opens revealing a worried Louis.

“He’s stubborn like a mule. Please tell me that someone tried to convince him that this is suicidal,” he says, not referring to anyone.

“We both did, like Porthos and Constance, but he was so determined that the only thing we could do was to follow him here,” Athos replies. Even Treville was not so amused with Aramis’ plan when they met at the precinct this morning.

“At least Isabelle tamed that part of him,” Louis murmurs, leaving the two alone. D’Artagnan look quizzically at Athos who shakes his head, not wanting to talk about Aramis’ dead fiancée at the moment. They hear Louis giving orders and they resume their position.

They move apart when a young woman arrives in front of Aramis’ office with several boxes in her arms.

“Let me help you,” D’Artagnan says, relieving the woman of some of them. Athos knocks on the door and opens it so they can go inside.

For the first time Athos sees Aramis for what he looks like when he works. This morning he didn’t understand why Aramis chose his best suit and tamed his curls in a ponytail, but now he sees why. And the sight in front of him is breathtaking.

He notices that he has his mouth open when D’Artagnan nudges him in his ribs.

“You looks like a wolf with a prey. Stop staring at him like that,” he whispers, grinning.

Athos shuts his mouth closed and after a smile from Aramis, he leaves the office, D’Artagnan and the woman behind him.

They keep watching the staff for awhile, looking for the man they are looking for but nothing is out of the ordinary. If words arrived to the killer that Marcheaux failed again, they need to keep their eyes open.

When an alarm goes off Athos and D'artagnan look at each other.

“Go that way. I'll stay here, keeping an eye on Aramis. If there's nothing come back here immediately,” Athos barks, taking the pistol in one hand while the other is already on the handle of the door. The younger officer nods, springing in action and leaving Athos alone.

“I knew this was much too easy,” he murmurs, opening the door.  

“What’s happening?” Aramis asks worried.

“An alarm went off. Don’t worry, D’Art is taking care of it,” he replies.

“Good, because I think I found the name,” Aramis tells him.

“So?” Athos asks.

Aramis opens his mouth to reply, when a shadow appears behind Athos. The Detective turns in time to see the butt of a pistol before everything goes black.

“Athos!” Aramis screams, seeing the officer crumbling on the floor. He runs to him but the man holding the gun points it at him.

“Grimaud!” Aramis growls, stopping in his steps.

“You finally get it, don’t you, D’Herblay?” Grimaud snarls, grinning like a madman. “Step away from the cop. Don’t worry, he’ll be next, once I’ll finish with you,” he continues, moving the gun from the two men to the other side of the room. Aramis reluctantly move away from Athos.

“Why everything? Why kill Dupont and the others? Why try to kill me?” Aramis inquiries.

“Don’t you get it?” Grimaud asks.

“Except because you are mad, maybe?” Aramis questions him.

“You don't want to make me angry so shut up!” Grimaud shouts at him, cocking the gun.

“So explain it,” Aramis states, trying to not be scared and to gain time. Athos may regain consciousness or D’Artagnan may return in time to block Grimaud before it’s too late.

“You were clever once, what happened to you? Oh right, your lovely fiancée,” he says, smiling viciously when he sees Aramis reaction.

“Don’t you dare talk about Isabelle,” he snarls, forgetting about the panic.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I hit a weak point?” Grimaud mocks him. Aramis growls in reply.

“Let’s go on, shall we?” the killer asks. “As I said you were smart, once, and it’s hard to believe that you didn’t get the whole plan immediately. I was up for your place before you arrived! That stupid Louis and your friendship! If I couldn't have your place I would destroy you. So I started to steal some money from the firm, making business with all the interesting people out there,” he explains.

“For ‘interesting people’ do you mean the organized crime? Because if so I hang out with the boring ones,” Aramis states.

“Do you think to be funny?” Grimaud growls. “I had everything under control. I was planning to frame you for the stealing and got rid of you. Instead Louis decided to make changes and I was kicked out of here. My business grew and I changed everything. If I couldn't get rid of you from the inside I’d be able to do it from the outside. I used my connections to made up some accidents and continue to blame you. But then Dupont found out about the accounts and the other things and I had to deal with him before he told you. It happened that he was on the phone with you when I come here to kill him. I killed two birds with one stone. That stupid man told the accountant and Lefevre and I had to get rid of them too. But when you are dead I’ll have everything I wanted!” he snarls before pointing the gun to Aramis and putting the finger on the trigger.

Two things happen in that moment. A shot rings in the room and Grimaud drops on the floor screaming in pain.

Aramis watches the scene frozen on the spot. He doesn't understand what's just happened until a voice calls him.

“Aramis? Aramis are you okay?” the voice asks. It takes moments for Aramis to recognize to whom belongs the voice, but when he diverts the eyes from Grimaud, his stare lands on Athos crouching on the floor, a hand on his head, the other with a smoking gun in it.

Aramis scrambles on his side, taking Athos face in his hands. “How are you? Do your head hurts a lot? Do you have vertigo? Nausea?” he asks worried.

“I'm fine. Now help me to stand up so I can can arrest him for multiple murders, robbery and business with the organized crime,” Athos grunts, trying to stand up.

“You do nothing. Not when I have everything under control,” D’Artagnan states, stepping into the room with handcuffs already in his hands.   

“I’m fine,” Athos replies, trying again to stand uselessly.

“Treville is on his way and I just called an ambulance. Stay there and wait,” D’Artagnan says, handcuffing Grimaud. This eliciting a hiss from the killer.

“D’Artagnan is right, you could have a concussion, so stay put and wait for the doctor,” Aramis says, putting a hand on Athos’ shoulder, stopping him to try to stand for the third time.

“What about the fact that you are a doctor? Did you lie to me?” Athos murmurs, leaning against the wall behind him.

“Yes, I am, but you need a real doctor,” he replies, smiling.

“Okay, doc,” Athos grants, closing his eyes, his head on Aramis’ shoulder.

When Treville arrives, he finds D’Artagnan pointing a gun at a bound Grimaud, Athos, his eyes still closed, propped against the wall and Aramis.

“Sooner or later you’ll give me a heart attack,” he greets them, watching the scene in front of him. He asks for an explanation of what happened  and between the three of them he receives a full report.

“And Athos?” he asks, watching his best detective pale and in pain.

“I think he has a concussion, thanks to the butt of his gun,” D’Artagnan explains, pointing to Grimaud.

“He confessed,” the injured man whispers.

“And where is it?” the Captain asks. Athos slides his phone from under him, showing the recording.

“I think after this case you two will be on vacation for at least a month,” Treville mutters, smiling. “Good job,” he adds, leaving the room at the arrival of the paramedics.

 


	12. Chapter 12

**A week later...**

Aramis looks in the mirror, trying to tame his curls for the umpteenth time.

“Leave your hair alone,” Constance scolds from behind him.

“But...” he starts to reply.

“No buts, leave it alone. It's perfect like that,” she says, slapping his hand away from his curls.

“If you say so,” he mutters, moving a curl away from his face.

“Do you remember everything?” he says once he's finished in the bathroom.

“Yes. It's not the first time I’ve babysat your daughter, Aramis. Beside Elodie and Marie will be here the whole evening, so I won't be alone,” she replies, setting the collar of his coat.

“Right, Porthos has some kind of lawyers meeting,” he remembers. Constance nods. She lifts Emma from her place on the carpet where she's playing with her doll, and she turns to him. “Kiss dada goodnight, baby girl,” she prompts, leaning the child toward Aramis. He kisses her, wanting to hold his daughter, but Constance tuts at him. “You'll destroy all my work”.

Aramis sighs, and after another quick kiss to Emma, he turns, ready for the night.

“One more thing. She's obsessed with “Tangled”, but let her watch it only once. She already did that two times today,” he orders when the doorbell rings. “He's here,” he exhales, fixing his hair once again before opening the door.

\------------------

“So, you brought me in one of the poshy ones, eh?” Athos exclaims when a young man arrives to park his car.

“Yes, but don't worry, I know the owner,” Aramis replies, smiling at him. Once inside a waiter leads them to a reserved table, near the big window where they can see one of the most beautiful panoramas of the city.

“René, is that you?” a booming voice echoes in the room.

“Miguel!” Aramis exclaims, smiling at the man approaching them.

“It's been too long. Where have you been?” Miguel asks, cleaning his big hands on his apron before squeezing Aramis'.

“Work and Emma,” he explains, dragging the older man into a hug.

“It's always good to see you, primo,” Miguel exhales in Aramis' hair.

“It's good to see you too,” Aramis replies, squeezing his cousin one last time before releasing him. “Let me introduce you to Athos,” he says, turning toward the Detective.

“Athos, this is my cousin, Miguel,” he explains, watching the two shake hands.

They share pleasantries before a young woman appears from the kitchen doors asking for Miguel.

“I'm sorry, but duty calls. See you later, and ask for everything you want,” Aramis' cousin says, before excusing himself and returns to work.

Athos doesn't stop smiling when they sit and order.

“So that's why you know the owner?” he asks, sipping his glass of wine while waiting for the second course.

“Yes. My uncle bought this place when my mother's family move here from Spain and some years ago he decided that he wanted to enjoy his retirement with my aunt, leaving this place to Miguel and his brother, Pablo. He still comes here to dinner sometimes, but my cousins run it,” he explains, playing with a piece of bread.

“So you're half Spanish?” Athos asks amazed.

“Yes, my father is French and my mother Spanish. It's not a big deal. And the good thing is that I didn't have to study Spanish in school,” he replies, smiling.

“I think D'Art is half Italian,” Athos blurts out, smiling. Aramis laughs at that and he follows.

Aramis takes Athos hand when the laughs end, squeezing it.

“I'd like to kiss you, but I don't think that that old couple would approve,” Aramis whispers, grinning like a fool.

“Who cares about them?” Athos replies, dragging the other towards him and kissing him.

Aramis blushes when they end it. The couple who looked at them has now turned away, the old lady with a glare of disapproval on her face.

While eating the fish they keep the conversation to a small chat, with a lot of smiles and brushes of hands.

“You still didn't tell me why you quit medicine,” Athos states, while they wait for the dessert.

“I didn't quit medicine. I didn't present the thesis and I didn't do the qualifying examination,” Aramis explains. When Athos looks at him expectantly, Aramis continues. “I knew Porthos for my whole life and his mother was like a second mum to me. She fell sick the year I was supposed to graduate. A stupid pneumonia. She was always sickly but that was her downfall. I tried to help with all I can. I put her in contact with all the experts I knew, I reserved her medical examinations, I bought all the meds she needed, but in vain. She worsened to the point of everything being useless. My family is very religious and I grew up going to mass every Sunday, saying my prayers before going to bed, attending catechism and everything. So when something goes wrong I take refuge in it. And I did just like that, hoping that a miracle could save her. I tried to help Porthos with it, with prayers and mass, even if I knew he wasn't so religious. She died some weeks later. I lost everything I believed in and I couldn't find the strength to go back to university. I left Paris and I went back home. My father hired me to run the financial part of his distillery so I could do something and it was there where Louis found me. I had the potential to work in his father’s firm with my medicine studies and with the financial activity with my father. I started as an associate and then, when his father left the firm to him, I became CEO, ” he tells him. He takes a long sip of wine, closing his eyes to calm himself. He feels Athos squeezing his hand in reassurance and when he opens his eyes, the Detective kisses him.

“Ah, I know he wasn't only a friend,” Miguel exclaims from behind them. Aramis blushes again while Athos grins. Aramis' cousin is bringing them the cakes they ordered and sits down and chat with them when nobody says anything.

When it's time to pay, Miguel stops Aramis and Athos from open their wallets, declaring that that meal is on him. He leads them outside hugging Aramis first and then Athos. “If what I saw tonight it's real I hope you well. But if it's not, I'll find you and make you pay for letting Renè suffer again,” he whispers to Athos' ear. The Detective nods and after saying goodbye they leave.

\------------------

They start kissing once Athos parks outside Aramis' house. It supposed to be a goodnight kiss but it transforms into a makeout session in the car. And in front of the door. And against the wall in the kitchen. And on the sofa in the living room, between Emma's toys.

“Aramis, is that you? Emma had a nightmare but...” Constance says quietly, entering the living room and stops dead in her steps.

Aramis and Athos scramble to move away from the other and stand, but Constance sees them anyway.

“So I presume the dinner went smoothly,” she states, smirking at the blush she sees on the men's faces.

“Yes... it went well,” Aramis replies, trying to catch his breath. “Constance, I'm...” he tries to say then.

“Don't apologize. It's good to see you so taken by him. It's been too long,” she says sweetly. Aramis smiles, nodding at his friend.

“And this is my cue to leave you two alone. Emma is asleep. She had a nightmare but, before ruining your evening, I succeeded in letting her fall asleep again. I hope she'll wake up again only in the morning. There are leftovers in the fridge if you are still hungry. And after this, I leave. See you tomorrow,” she says, putting her coat on and leaving the two of them alone and with their mouths open.

Athos is the first to divert his eyes from where Constance was mere moments ago.

“So, I think it's time for me to go home,” he says, fixing his coat.

“Don't leave,” Aramis whispers, taking his hand and squeezing it. “And we had something to finish,” he adds, smirking. He doesn't wait for Athos to say something, pulling and kissing him passionately.

They return to their place on the couch, making out like teenagers. Aramis has both his hands in Athos' hair, when the Detective slides his under Aramis' jacket, trying to pull out the hem of his shirt.

Aramis moans, sliding his hands toward Athos' shoulders, deciding to remove the cumbersome coat. He tries several times in vain until he gives up and stops kissing Athos.

“Why did you stop?” Athos groans.

“I can't take your coat off so you have to stand,” he says, dragging him up. Athos removes his coat and jacket, unbuttoning a little bit of his shirt too. Aramis follows his lead, taking his jacket off and pulling out his shirt completely.

“Now, can we resume from where we left?” Athos asks, sitting on the couch. Aramis straddles him, unbuttoning his shirt entirely and kissing him again.

A wail resounds in the house and Aramis sighs, squeezing his eyes in exasperation.

“Go, I'll wait for you here,” Athos whispers, stroking his hair. Aramis sighs again and after a moment, and another wail, he stands, offering his hand to Athos.

“Come with me,” he states, smiling.

He leads Athos to Emma's room leaving him just outside of it.

“Hey, baby girl, daddy is here,” he whispers, lifting the crying girl and cradles her. He sings a little bit, one of Emma's favorite lullaby, and when the girl falls asleep again, he puts her back in her bed, leaving a small light on, before stepping out of the room.

“I think you are a great father and she's lucky to have you,” Athos states, taking Aramis hand in his.

“Thanks, I do my best. It's' not simple but I try. And I hope she will sleep for the rest of the night, leaving us alone,” he says, smiling sheepishly at Athos compliment.

After a moment where no one talks, he drags Athos to his room. They resume from where they left in the living room, discarding every item of clothing on the floor, leaving a path from the door to the bed.

They don't even bother to move away the blankets when Aramis tosses Athos on the bed, straddling him without stopping kissing.

They are both down to their briefs when Athos blocks Aramis to go on.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking at him.

“I think I'll never be this sure in all my life,” Aramis murmurs, kissing him in confirmation. Athos lets go of his hands, leaving Aramis finally removing his briefs.

Aramis has meant what he just said to Athos but when the man under him is finally naked he doesn't know how to proceed.

“Aramis, look at me. Relax, I'm not going anywhere,” Athos whispers, not knowing if the light blush on Aramis' face is from embarrassment or hesitation.

“It's not my first time with a man, Athos. It's only that it's been awhile from the last time, with everyone,” he replies, laughing.

“Okay, what about I undress you completely, and then we go on, slowly? We have time so don't worry, okay?” Athos says, smiling when Aramis nods, laying down next to him.

Athos doesn't lose time and slides Aramis' briefs off in a swift motion, before straddling and kissing him. Aramis melts and relaxes under Athos’ kiss, finally feeling comfortable.

Athos touches him, eliciting a long moan from him, leaving a trail of kisses and nails from his neck to his navel. Aramis grips his hair, moaning again when Athos kisses just above that point, rocking his hips up, trying to meet his mouth.

“Shh,” Athos murmurs, kissing everywhere but where Aramis needs him the most.

“Athos, if you don't do something fast I'll come without even a touch,” Aramis growls, after another series of kisses.

“Is it okay for you?” he asks, looking at him.

“Yes, yes, yes, everything it's okay, until you do something,” Aramis replies, trying to hold a groan and a curse.

The groan slips anyway when Athos closes his mouth around it.

It doesn’t take long for Aramis to come. Athos has a fantastic mouth and it feels wonderful on him. He stifles a scream with his hand in his mouth, while the other grips Athos’ hair tightly.

He takes deep breaths after, trying to clear his mind. He doesn't notice that he loosened the grip on Athos’ hair until he feels his lover beside him. He kisses him passionately, moving his hand until he finds what he's looking for and starts sliding it up and down.

Athos comes with a muffled groan, his forehead pressed against Aramis’ shoulder, his teeth biting hard his lower lip.

“That was...” he murmurs, snuggling near Aramis.

“Amazing,” Aramis finishes for him, smiling.

“And that was only the start,” Athos declares, smiling too.

“But not tonight,” Aramis replies, stifling a yawn.

“No, not tonight,” Athos confirms, kissing his nose.

They stay like that, holding each other, kissing, smiling and talking until Aramis sets against Athos, his face buried in his neck, an arm thrown carelessly on his lover's chest, closing his eyes and murmurs something that Athos translate as “I love you”. He smiles, kissing him on the head and closes his eyes, falling asleep.

\------------------

When Aramis turns, his eyes still closed, he feels something that is not the man he fell asleep with. He cracks one eye opened and he sees what's in front of him. Emma. He opens his eyes completely, trying to understand how his daughter managed to leave her bed, when he notices that she's playing with something. Athos' hair. And the Detective allows her to do it.  
“Good morning,” Athos whispers when he sees Aramis is awake. “You slept soundly when she called for you, so I picked her and brought her here. I hope you don't mind,” he goes on, sitting up and bringing the little girl with him, sitting her on his lap.

Aramis smiles, sitting up and kissing Athos. He really doesn't mind.

 


	13. Epilogue

“What should we do today?” Athos asks one morning. They've been dating for some weeks now and Athos has just spent the night with Aramis. The Detective has his day off and Aramis is on holiday, thanks to Louis and the fact that he didn't spend a day of vacation from the first time he stepped inside the firm. They're sitting at the table, enjoying a cup of coffee, for Aramis, and a cup of tea, for Athos. Emma is already at nursery school, so they have the morning for themselves.

“I was thinking about going out and enjoying some time in a museum. It's been years and I really need it at the moment,” Aramis replies, smiling at him.

“Okay. It's not my type of day but if you want, I can make an exception. Anyway, don't you have to go on with your project?” he tells Aramis.

“Yes, but I'm almost done with it and a day out could make me only better. Doctor’s orders,” Aramis says, grinning.

“If you say so… doc,” Athos replies, smiling at the little jokes.

“Not yet, but soon,” Aramis whispers, leaning towards his lover to kiss him.

They end their breakfast and leave the house.

Athos has visited the museum only one other time in his life, but with Aramis’ explanation, he sees it in a completely different way. They pass the day between suits of armors and weapons, discovering the story behind every piece of the museum.

At lunch, they are sitting outside in the sun, eating a sandwich and chatting when Athos’ phone rings.

“He was sentenced to life in prison,” Treville tells him when he picks up. Athos sighs in relief, smiling at Aramis.

The trial took place just after Grimaud’s confession and the jury decided quickly against him. Aramis' testimony was crucial for the verdict.

Both Athos and Aramis knew that this is the day and now Athos realizes why Aramis decided to bring him out of the house instead of trying to concentrate in vain all day.

He thanks Treville, putting his phone in his pocket.

“So?” Aramis asks him.

“It's done,” Athos replies, smiling. Aramis leans against him, kissing him passionately.

\------------------

He's a little bit terrified but a quick glance toward Athos and Emma relaxes him in time to open his thesis and present it to the professor.

A pair of big and strong arms hug him when he exits the room.

“Congratulations, Doctor D'Herblay,” Porthos whispers in his ear.

Aramis hugs him tightly, smiling against his shoulder.

When it's Athos' time, the Detective gives Emma to Constance, and proceeds to kiss Aramis in front of everyone.

\------------------

“We have an announcement to make,” Porthos declares that evening, standing up and addressing the others around the table.

“We are expecting a baby!” Elodie tells them, excited. Everyone congratulates with them, smiling and raising their glasses in cheers.

“Do you already know if it's a boy or a girl?” Constance asks, wiggling out of D'Artagnan's hug.

“Not yet, but I don't really care. I only hope it will be healthy,” Elodie replies, smiling, before an arm envelopes her.

“Congrats! I know there was something you were hiding the moment you refused the wine,” Aramis tells her, grinning, his crown of laurel crooked on one side of his head. Porthos laughs, knowing that Aramis doesn't miss anything even if drunk or busy saving his own life. Aramis, still grinning, gives a light kiss on Elodie's cheek, passing to hug Porthos.

“Since everyone is making announcements, and you spend most of your free nights with him, when will you decide to leave your lonely and sad flat to move in with him?” D'Artagnan asks Athos, grinning.

“First, how do you know I spend most nights at Aramis' and not in my own flat? Second, it's a decision to make without you. Third, my flat is not lonely and sad,” Athos replies, glaring at him and blushing.  
Aramis laughs, hugging Athos.

“Leave the boy alone, and anyway he's right,” Treville steps in. “Don't you believe that no one knows where you are when you're not on duty,” he goes on, sipping his wine and smiling.

Athos, if possible, reddens at the thought every colleague knowing his private life. Aramis for his part, laughs harder, tightening his grip on Athos.

“What about you instead? Have you asked her to live together?” Athos asks to D'Artagnan when he regains some composure.

“For the record, we moved in together last week. My flat was terrible and she owns hers so we decide to live there,” D'artagnan replies, smiling.

Athos opens and closes his mouth several times before he tries to say something.

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Aramis whispers, putting an end to the conversation.

\------------------

“I think he was right,” Aramis murmurs, his lips against Athos' skin. They're laying in bed, the blankets the only thing covering them. Athos has his eyes closed, while tracing a pattern on Aramis’ naked skin.

“Hmmm?” he mumbles.

“D'Art was right. You should move here with me, if you want,” Aramis replies, lifting his head and propping it on his hand.

“And disturb you?” he asks, looking at him.

“You won't bother me. Emma loves you and I love you. It will be only the right course of action,” Aramis tells him.

“Yes but not after only so little time,” Athos replies.

“Okay, but it could be a good test. And if you want you could keep your flat,” Aramis states.

“I'll keep my flat,” Athos mutters. Aramis looks at him like he'd just punch him in the stomach. “And not only because it's my flat but because I own the whole building,” Athos explains, realizing Aramis jumps to the wrong conclusion.

“Ohhhhh, okay,” he says, smiling.

“I'd love to live here with you and Emma,” Athos states, dragging Aramis down on top of him.

“Are you sure?” Aramis whispers.

“Yes, I am,” he replies, kissing him.

“I'm happy,” Aramis murmurs when he slides beside Athos, after a long session of making out.

“And I'm happy that you are finally happy,” Athos replies, leaving a small kiss on Aramis’ forehead.

“It's strange that this big mess became this wonderful time of my life,” the doctor mutters, his eyes already closed.

“My mum uses to say that sometimes the brightest light comes from the darkest places, and now I know she's right,” Athos replies before closing his eyes as well and falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thanks my wonderful and amazing beta [Skep](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Skep) that support me and wrote all those wonderful notes when she's done edit, (especially the last one).
> 
> And I want to thank all the readers for all the comments, I read them even if I don't reply.


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